


Dh'oine

by Taethor (orphan_account)



Series: Signe and Iorveth [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And then there's dragons and time travel and everything in between, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Confusion, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial, Elves are Dicks, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantastic Racism, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Iorveth is a Dick, Iorveth's getting better at this, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, M/M, Misogyny, Modern Girl In Temeria (sort of), No Healing Cock, Not Canon Compliant, Opposites Attract, Rape Recovery, Regicide, Sexism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, WW2 Girl In Temeria, WW2 Girl in Aedirn, but gorgeous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 109,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Taethor
Summary: One moment, I was sitting in our Volvo PV. I was in the passenger seat and John was next to me, driving. War raged on all around us, the whole of Europe bled, but in our little country, we enjoyed a neutrality, making it possible for us to spend the Christmas Eve of 1944 with my parents in blessed ignorance of what actually went on around us.I was full, having stuffed myself with both the typical Swedish Christmas dishes and the Polish delicacies my father always had sent for during the festivities, and I dozed off for a few moments, lulled by the sound of the engine and the safe warmth of John beside me.The next moment, I woke up far away from the crisp snowy landscape of a Swedish winter, in a land far away. And it had monsters. So I ran.





	1. A Christmas Eve

Imagining her future just a few days ago, being chased through a dense forest by rotting monsters and shrieking goblins hadn’t exactly been what she would have pictured. Not in her wildest dreams or nightmares, was this something she actually had to do – so even trying for a moment to understand what had gotten her into this in the first place, would be a waste of time. 

One moment, she had been sitting in her husband’s Volvo PV, lulled to sleep by the humming of the engine and the dark forest all around them, as they made their way home from a usual Christmas Eve dinner at her parents house. Outside, everything was dark, but the white and glistening snow had lit up the fields and trees hugging the road between the two neighbouring cities they travelled between.   
Suddenly, John had hit the breaks so hard, Signe had flown face first into the instrument board of the car, and the last thing she remembered, was the car swirling on the icy road, the tires screeching and the engine protesting. Then it all became black. 

When Signe woke up again, with a dull headache, she was no longer on a road next to a snow-covered field, on the edge of a pine forest. John and the PV were nowhere to be seen and she didn’t even recognize the forest surrounding her. The snow was gone and it seemed to be one of those central European forests, dense and thick with loads of oaks and beech trees. It wasn’t warm, around her, but it wasn’t as cold as the winters usually were in central Sweden. Perhaps she had somehow ended up in the south of Sweden?   
She couldn’t possibly be where she thought. There was a war going on in Europe and Sweden was one of the few countries remaining neutral in the war, keeping a peace within its boarders, but still suffering from the rations of wartime. But it didn’t look like the south of Sweden, it looks more like… _No_ , Signe thought. A few memories from her childhood popping up inside her head. It looked like _Poland_ , or perhaps worse – Germany.   
Her father had emigrated from Poland to Sweden in the beginning of the 1920’s, working with costumes for film sets and the theatre and he had soon met her mother, an actress in Stockholm and they had had a whirlwind romance, and her mother quickly fell with child and settled down with Maciej, her father in a suburb of Stockholm. Her father had taken her and her two siblings to Poland several times during their childhood in the 1920’s and 1930’s, mostly to visit their grandparents and cousins, therefore, he was also insistent that they would learn to speak Polish so that they could communicate with their relatives. Her mother and father had gotten to know each other speaking German, before her father learned to speak Swedish more fluently, but some of their Polish relatives only spoke Polish and so Signe and her siblings really had no choice in learning the language. 

She felt a pang of gratefulness to her father just in that moment, when she heard a male voice scream something in Polish not too far away from her. But that gratefulness soon disappeared when she realized that _if_ she was indeed in Poland, she was by now, it was 1944 after all, inside the _German_ boarders, _in the middle of a raging war_.   
She didn’t even have time to think about _how_ she had actually ended up in Poland, when just a moment ago, she had been sitting in the passenger seat of a Volvo, in Sweden.   
She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t obey her, her whole body felt like mush as she tried to regain control over it. She looked down to see her red dress, it was torn and ragged and her beautiful stockings, that she had saved specially for Christmas Eve, were muddy and dirty, as well as torn by the seems. Her coat was nowhere to be seen and when she lifted her hands to feel her hair and head, she could feel her dark locks being in utter disarray. One of her shoes was lost and when she finally got up on her feet and tried to look around, to see if she could see _anyone_ , she kicked the other one off before she started running. 

Branches cut through her clothes as she ran, sticks on the ground dug into the sole of her feet, she almost stumbled over stubs and rocks as she ran away from the screaming. Her breathing became more and more heavy the longer she ran and she chanced a glance backwards, only to run into something tall, hard and leathery.   
Signe fell back unto her arse, staring up with wide eyes at the… _What in Gods name was that?_ she thought as she gazed up at the man standing in front of her with a… Is that a _bow_ he’s holding?   
He wore a frown on his face and his ears were strangely misshaped, probably some kind of birth defect gone uncorrected. He was dressed _very_ strangely in put together-leather that almost gave a medieval feel and half his face was covered by a red bandana, shielding one of his eyes.   
Signe gasped and drew back from him, but the man stood still, staring down at her with his bow gripped tightly in his hand and an arrow at the ready. Then, several others emerged from the dense trees and bushes, holding knives and bows alike. As she looked around, she noticed they all had the same kind of defect ears as the man standing just in front of her. 

The man took a step forward, he was tall – very tall, and as he stood while she was lying on the ground, he seemed even taller. He loomed over her, looking down at her with more than a little hostility and suspicion in his eyes.   
What was this? Where was she? Had she somehow ended up in some forgotten rebel camp filled with inbreeds? 

“What are you doing here, dh’oine?” the man spoke slowly in Polish. His voice sounded educated and calm, but his face had a fierceness to it and in his eyes, hatred shone as he stared down on her. His lips were curved in disgust as she felt her lower lip tremble. “Who are you?”  
“Wh-what?” Signe stuttered with a croaking voice. _Dh'oine_? Signe thought to herself, trying to make sense of the word.  
“Answer me”, he took another step forward, his arrow pointing straight at her head.   
“I-I don’t know”, Signe drew back further, shielding herself by pulling her arms up against her face.   
“You don’t _know_?” the strange man scowled and leaned down, crouching over her.   
“Where… Where am I?” Signe’s eyebrows pulled together in worry as she tried to shy away from his looming figure.   
“Temeria”, said the man, now with some curiosity to his features. His one visible eye searching her face.   
“Te-“, Signe halted in her words, searching her mind. There’s no place in Poland, at least that she knew of, named Temeria. She looked up at him with a frown, suddenly more angry than confused and scared. “Wait just a moment, who the bloody hell are you?”   
The strange disfigured man scoffed with a huff, rising up from his crouch and with a disgusted twist of his lips, he waved for one of the others to come to him.   
A black-haired young man stepped forward to the man’s side, “Get the dh’oine out of here”  
The younger looking man nodded quickly and soon, the strange man disappeared into the trees again, as the young man stepped up to her. He pulled her up from the ground and before she knew it, something hit the back of her head hard, and yet again, everything became black.

* 


	2. There's a Second for Everything

Iorveth signalled for his second in command to come closer, without taking his eyes off of the fat noble woman lying beneath him, in her strange but fancy looking underwear. He couldn’t help but to wonder why she was here in the first place, dressed like _that_. He wasn’t surprised, humans had no grace when it came to such things, but the chubby noble ones? They were usually much more tightly held. This one, with her large blue eyes and dark hair that curled in a strange way around her face, looked like a high class prostitute, if anything.  
Her clothing was torn and she was in obvious distress, but he could see that underneath the dust and the sprigs in her hair and on her clothes, she was clean. A lot more clean than most humans or elves.  
She was pretty, for a human. And her round curves fascinated him, along with her milky skin that looked as if it was impossibly soft underneath that outrageous crimson shift. He couldn’t help but to chuckle a little to himself, when he looked down on her, watching the fear in her eyes as she found herself surrounded by him and several of his Scoia’tael. It was fear, but also something else. Confusion, perhaps? Something about her was off, Iorveth thought. Well, apart from the obvious, that she was dressed strangely and that her common tongue had a strange accent, like she hesitated before every word, as if it was a language she seldom spoke.

Iorveth took a step back, letting his second in command take over, ”Get the dh’oine out of here”, he said before he looked at her one last time, then turned around and walked into the forest surrounding them again.  
A lost dh’oine wasn’t his problem, whatever it was she was doing in these woods, she had no business here. Normally, it would be reason enough to kill her, a human trespassing into their territory – but for some reason, Iorveth couldn’t bring himself to kill her. He had spotted her crimson dress, running through the woods, dogs barking behind her as well as nekkers and ghouls chasing her. Humans screamed about the monsters, probably a nest that had infected an area too close to Lobinden. He could understand that it had scared the girl, for she was no more but a girl, or a young woman. Humans aged much more rapidly than elves and judging from how she looked, she would be around 20 years old.

Iorveth and his group had been close by, keeping an eye on some human hunters drawing almost too close for comfort into the woods, but then the crimson clad girl had caught their attention. Ciaran had suggested to kill her immediately, but Iorveth found himself fascinated by her, and motioned for Ciaran to wait. They easily picked off the nekkers and ghouls that chased her from where they sat in the trees, hiding. And then, she stumbled, her eyes flickering down on the ground to see where she put her naked feet. Iorveth had jumped down from the tree, which led to the girl running straight into him and colliding. She fell back on her arse, the stupid little human, and Iorveth looked down on her with his eye narrowed.  
No, he wouldn’t kill her. However, he had no use for a dh’oine, except for a plaything for his comrades, and Iorveth didn’t stand with rape. The easiest thing to do, was to knock her out and have some of his men dump her at the skirts of the forest for the humans to find her. If she was what he thought she was, a noble, he didn’t need the hassle of killing one, bringing even more trouble their way. The Scoia’tael were deemed terrorists and mass murderers anyway, but killing a noble? That sort of thing could bring much more unwanted attention than Iorveth had time for.  
Ciaran lifted her up to her feet and as Iorveth walked away, he could hear the dull thud of them knocking her out, before they brought her out of the forest.

* 

There it was.  
Either, she had become completely mad, or she had somehow ended up in Poland in the Middle Ages.  
Some strange version of the Middle Ages, Signe thought as she looked around the small village in which she had woken up. It was littered with mostly normal looking people, but there were a few really, really short ones – dwarves? And those such as the ones she had meet in the forest, with disfigured ears. Apparently they were called “elves”. Signe just shook her head at the thought, still not able to take it all in completely.  
She had woken up in a small hut. A small hut owned by a batty lady a few years her senior from what she could tell, who dealt with gathering and selling herbs mostly, but also some strange elixirs and potions. The lady, Anezka, had told Signe that she’d found her out in the woods, unconscious but still breathing and so she had, for whatever reason, taken pity upon her and brought her back to her hut.  
It was there, in those few first days, that Signe realized she wasn’t _home_. That what she viewed as home, was very far away. This wasn’t a dream and no matter how many times she tried to pinch herself to wake up, when she opened her eyes, she was always still in the village called Lobinden, in a land where they _spoke_ Polish, but they called it the ‘Common Tongue’.

When the first shock was over, she began to realize her actual situation. She was so far away from home, and what of John? Did he live? What had truly happened? Anezka hadn’t asked her much of where she came from. Though, she had been rather curious about her clothing, not really believing Signe wasn’t some kind of wealthy prostitute, what with the clothes she wore, especially her undergarments. Anezka had studied them for a great while, before giving them back to Signe. She had however, refused to let her out of the hut in her torn dress, saying it was simply too indecent to walk around outside looking like a strumpet.  
“Save that for the bedroom, girl”, she had sneered at Signe in her broad Polish that Signe couldn’t pinpoint to a certain region, other than that it didn’t at all sound like how they spoke in Krakow. 

When Signe got back on her feet after a few days of resting, Anezka thought it best that she’d earn her living, as it seemed Signe would stay with her for a while and since Signe didn’t know what to do with herself or how she would even begin to get back to her own time and her own world, she agreed. She was tasked with learning all the different herbs, which were very strange and completely different from the flora she was used to. When she didn’t study the herbs, she got to boil water for disinfecting jars, or boil herbs, dry them and grind them into fine powders that Anezka used for potions of all kinds that people came by to buy for any kind of ails. Most of them were related to sexual activity and Signe was sure she saw syphilis on a good number of Anezka’s customers. 

Days became weeks and Signe stayed in Lobinden with Anezka, working hard while trying to shut out the horrifying fact that she probably never would wake up from this world. That John could be dead and the fact that she’d never get to meet her parents or siblings again.  
In an effort to understand this strange place, she had tried to ask Anezka about the elves that had found her in the woods, but Anezka would only mutter and curse at what she called “those godless Scoia’tael”, not giving Signe any more answers than that.

* 

It wasn’t until weeks later, when Signe had been sent out into the forest to gather herbs and flowers by Anezka and she wandered a bit too far, that an arrow wheezing past her cheek with only an inch to spare had her falling back on her arse yet again, in surprise from where she sat crouched in a small clearing.  
“You’re trespassing”, a calm educated voice sounded from behind her and Signe quickly got to her feet, whipping around only to be faced with the strange man yet again.

He hung his bow on his back as he stepped out from behind the trees, he still wore that same sardonic scowl on his face as he had the last time she saw him, and his one eye shone with the same kind of hatred as before. Though, at the same time it showed some curiosity in it’s deep emerald hue. 

Signe took a step back, looking at the man, “How am I trespassing? I’m only picking herbs”  
“These are my woods, dh’oine”, the man said as he took another step towards her, cocking his head as he looked at her intensely with that one eye. “And you, you do not belong here”  
Signe’s breath caught in her chest as she looked at the man. He wore the same clothes as he had before, the crimson bandana still covering half his face and head, only allowing for a little black hair to stick out around his pointed ear and neck. 

She had noticed, during her short time here, that the elves, as they called them, looked like humans, mostly. They seemed to have the same anatomy, except for being slightly taller and more lithe in their musculature. This one, was indeed very tall, but also broad. The elves seemed to have finer features, high cheekbones and slightly wry eyes, with thinner, almost chiselled noses and neat lips. This strange man, was no exception, from what she could see. He had a deep, angry-looking scar on his cheek, that went up from his lip, over his cheek and cheekbone to his covered eye. However, it did nothing to take away his beauty, even though Signe was more scared to death than intrigued at the moment.  
One of his gloved hands moved to lean on the hilt of a sword he had hanging from his hip as he came to a halt, every bit too close to Signe for comfort. 

“You’re trembling, dh’oine”, he almost whispered as he leaned in close to her and Signe brought her hands up over her chest.  
“What do you want? I haven’t done anything wrong”, she said, peaking up at him. God, he was tall, she thought to herself. She only reached up to his shoulder – and back home, she was above average height with her 5 feet 8 inches.  
The man scoffed and pulled back, his gaze looking all around them both where they stood in the small clearing. “You didn’t kill me”, she said after a moment’s silence and his eye snapped back up, looking into her eyes.  
He frowned as he shifted his stance, “Perhaps I should have”, he almost murmured.  
“Because you’re Scoia’tael?” Signe chanced. She had heard that they hated humans and that she’d been lucky beyond words that she’d made it out of that forest alive enough for Anezka to find her and take care of her.  
The man huffed with a snarl on his lips, before shrugging.  
“So”, Signe took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, “Why didn’t you kill me? I’m a human, after all”  
The man twitched as he stared at her, before he took one large step and within another second, he stood with his face close to hers and she could feel his warm breath over her own face as he leaned down. She could smell his scent, leather, sandalwood and just a hint of sweat. “I may harbour a hatred for your kind, but I’m not a mindless monster who kills for the enjoyment of it”  
“You’re scaring me”, Signe breathed out in something between a pant and a hiss.  
His eye twitched again as his lips seemed to quirk up just a tad bit, into what could only be described as a sardonic-looking smirk. “Good. Maybe that will teach you not to wander into my woods”, his hand came up to her face, stroking her cheekbone lightly as he peered into her eyes with his one eye. The deep emerald colour had her almost breathless and for a moment, she forgot how scared she was. She looked down at his lips and suddenly felt like she wanted to just push herself up on her toes and press her own lips against his, just for a quick moment. 

_What in God’s name are you thinking, woman?_ Signe thought to herself as she looked up at the man, her eyes wide as she felt a heated blush creep up over her cheeks.  
The man backed away a little, letting go of her cheek. “What’s your name, dh’oine?”  
“Wha-what?” she stuttered, pulling a hand up to cover the cheek he’d just touched.  
“Your name, girl”, he repeated with a frown.  
“Signe”, she answered quickly, “Why? What’s yours?”  
He smirked, this time it didn’t even look sardonic, only secretive, and Signe looked at him with confusion.  
“I would stay out of these woods”, he said as he turned and started walking away, “Next time, it might not be me you run into. And another of my kind may not be as likely to spare you yet again”  
Signe looked at his back, as he walked away. She frowned, biting her lower lip before taking a deep, hasted breath, “Hey! Wait!” she shouted and he stopped, looking over his shoulder with his good eye.  
“Why won’t you tell me your name?” Signe asked, walking towards him, her grey dress getting caught in the tall grass and thin branches lying on the ground. “I’ve told you mine, why won’t you return the favour?”  
He turned around, looking at her with a critical eye, before he frowned, “You want me to return a favour? To you?”  
“Why not? I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”  
“Trespassing, is considered wrong”, he scowled.  
“I wasn’t aware”, Signe stopped just two steps from him. “Forgive me, in that case”  
The man nodded slowly, cocking his head and looking at her, “Iorveth”, he whispered to her, leaning in close to her again. As he did so, she noticed the tattoo on his neck, crawling down over his shoulder and disappearing in under his clothes. She hadn’t noticed it before, perhaps hadn’t dared to look at anything other than his face, but now as she stared down on his throat, bobbing from him swallowing and his strong collarbones cutting out and leading her eyes to his shoulders and that, strange but at the same time mesmerizing tattoo, a warmth spread inside her. A warmth she tried to press back down as her cheeks once again heated under his scrutiny.  
“Iorveth”, she repeated in a whisper.  
He grabbed her chin with his thumb and index finger, bringing her gaze up to meet his, “Don’t tell anyone”  
“I wont”, she almost stumbled on the words again as she got caught in his eyes.  
“Good girl”, he said, letting her chin go, “Head my advice”, he said before he turned and stalked off into the forest again, disappearing completely.

* 

It seemed fat noble women fell into his lap more often these days, Iorveth thought as he watched the same woman that had run into him a few weeks past. Now, she was dressed more properly, but also in a less noble-looking fashion. A woven grey dress that looked dull on her pale skin. Her dark brown, almost black hair didn’t have the same tight curls as it had the first time he saw her, instead, it flowed down over her shoulders, as she leaned down to pick some of the flowers growing in the holt. Her body looked even more curvaceous when she was bent over like that, crouching on the ground.  
Iorveth shook his head with disgust at his sodden thoughts about a _human_ , as he silently hopped down from the tree and slowly strode between the trees and bushes towards her. “You’re trespassing”, he said and the girl quickly rose to her feet and whipped around, meeting his gaze with her own. Oh, wasn’t this just too wonderful? A scared little dove, lost in the woods, all alone. Iorveth smirked but kept his eyes pinned on her.

Just as he had felt the first time he saw her, he was conflicted. He couldn’t help but to feel some strange attraction towards her, she didn’t look like the other humans that littered the towns and cities all over his people’s rightful lands. She wasn’t smelly or filthy and something in her eyes told him, she didn’t possess the same hatred against his kind as most other humans did. However, he couldn’t possibly trust her and he couldn’t completely let go of his instinct do despise her, considering she was human, after all.

Iorveth didn’t know what possessed him to finally ask for her name. Curiosity perhaps? It just came out and he changed his mind the second he asked for her name. He regretted it even more, when she whilst blushing, dared to ask for his.  
Should he tell her? What good would it do? Perhaps it could frighten the girl enough for her to stay away from the forest and not venture further in, the next time. Few humans lived in ignorance of his name, after all. It was more or less used as a curse. The dreaded elven terrorist.  
Somehow, it seemed as if his mind wanted her to keep wandering into the woods, only so that he could watch her even more, just look at her.

As he leaned in close to her, wanting to touch her but instead conveying it as a show of power, forcing his presence on hers. He could feel her scent. She smelled like earth, dust and sweet blossoms, combined with citrus and just the tiniest hint of human sweat. It was tantalizing and Iorveth had to concentrate not to succumb completely to it and instead he scowled, trying to keep his face from betraying his thoughts. It made him twitch. He didn’t like when he felt himself twitch, it made him seem more mad than he actually was. Rumour was already, around several kingdoms and not only Temeria, that Iorveth, the Scoia’tel’s leader, the terrorist and mass murderer, hater of humans, was insane. A madman. He wasn’t, of course, but it was a good reputation to have, considering it kept most humans far away from him.  
This girl, however, now peaked up at him with large deeply blue eyes, shining in the pale midday sun like sapphires, as he held her chin between his thumb and index-finger. Soft porcelain skin, white as milk and with hair as dark as coal. When he stood so close to her, he noticed she had the tiniest freckles over her nose and they fascinated him, though he tried to keep his eye on hers, focusing.  
“Head my advise”, Iorveth said before he let go of her chin and turned, walking away.

* 


	3. Consequences of War

The first days, nightmares had plagued her. Visions of John killed, bloodied – or searching for her, but only finding emptiness. What could she possibly do? Considering the state of the world she had fallen into, she couldn’t just send him some kind of message through time, even if she wished she could. Carve some words into a rock somewhere, where he could find it eventually – after hundreds and hundreds of years – if not thousands.  
After a week or so, the nightmares turned into anxiety-ridden dreams of her alone, being lost and searching. For what? She didn’t know. All she knew, was that those elves kept following her as she walked in the woods. As she did find out, a couple of weeks later, that it wasn’t all too far from the truth. Anezka had sent her out into the woods, where she had met _him_ \- Iorveth. ‘Don’t tell anyone’, he said. Why? She’d wanted to ask, but didn’t, instead she promised to keep his secret – and so she did.

Since that strange meeting, Iorveth, had plagued her mind, day and night. And she felt ashamed, dirty and simply retched. She had only just been ripped away from her own world, her husband of only a couple of years – and already she found herself daydreaming of someone she overheard the humans around her refer to as ‘Scoia’tael vermin’. She had tried to ask Anezka more about the elves and the Scoia’tael, but she had told her about as much as she had the last time Signe asked.  
“Don’t stray into the woods. The Scoia’tael guards the forest and you don’t want to run into anyone of those ploughing bastards. They’ll kill ye on the spot, without mercy”, Anezka said.  
Well, Signe thought, they hadn’t killed her – hadn’t killed her twice, for that matter. Iorveth had warned her and she supposed it was wise to take that seriously. But then again, she couldn’t push the thoughts away concerning him. There was something about him that fascinated her, but at the same time scared her. However, she did as both Anezka and Iorveth both had told her, and kept from straying too far into the woods when she was out gathering herbs for her landlady. 

Over the weeks that followed, Anezka became more and more agitated, talking more about leaving Lobinden. ‘Where?’ Signe had asked her, and Anezka had sighed, shaking her head. She told her about the war that was going on and that someone Anezka called Kingslayer had assassinated King Foltest, apparently the ruler of Temeria. If it had been hard living before, now with the whole realm sucked into complete chaos, it would only get worse.  
Anezka cursed the Scoia’tael, claiming they had something to do with the assassination, as they stood on the Empire’s side. Nilfgaard, they called the Empire to the south, not that it made any sense to Signe. She hadn’t even seen a map over the small village she was in, and she certainly couldn’t imagine how the world here looked. But it certainly seemed as if she’d left a World War and fallen into yet another one – just in a world completely foreign to her own. The thought of the assassination of Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, the then Austro-Hungarian Empire came to her mind, giving her chills of childhood memories from the depression after the Great War. 

Anezka stayed for now, bringing the subject up now and again about leaving. She had offered Signe to come with her – and did Signe have another choice? She had made some acquaintances in the village as well as inside the larger town of Flotsam – but Anezka was the one who continued to be her closest friend, if one could call her that. 

“Hey!” she heard a male voice sound outside the small hut in which she and Anezka lived, and soon, she heard harsh banging on the door. “Hello! Is anyone there?”  
Signe looked up from her knitting and frowned at the door. She had locked it, as she was alone. Anezka had an ‘errand’, as she called it, in Flotsam. That usually meant she wouldn’t get back until earliest late the next morn.  
The banging continued, “Hey, I mean no harm. I’m hurt. I’ve been told a healer lives in this hut. Please, open or I’ll sodding bleed to death. I’ve been pierced by an arrow by those goddamned Squirrels”  
Signe rose and walked over to the door, “Who are you?” she asked through the door, holding the lock shut still.  
“A Temerian Commander”, the male voice croaked from outside, “Please, just let me in before they kill me”  
“How can I trust that you are what you say?” Signe wanted to open the door, but this world was filled with hostilities and crooks, doing everything imaginable to lure themselves into small riches or sometimes just a warm bed and a more or less willing female.  
“Listen”, the voice said and she heard a deep sigh before a dull thud hit the door, “My name is Vernon Roche. I think… I think I’m fainting”, another dull thud and Signe couldn’t help herself. She had to open the door and so she did. 

A man fell in through the door and she had to literarily jump out of the way not to fall down with him. He was dressed in blue with white vertical stripes over his arms. On his chest, he wore a medallion with three lilies stamped on it and his dark brown eyes looked up at her as she stood to the side. He was bloodied and obviously hurt and so Signe pulled him inside before quickly closing and locking the door again.  
“Squirrels did this to you?” she asked him with a frown as she dragged him further inside the small hut.  
“Huh?” the man’s eyes rolled back into his skull. “Yes, the Squirrels”  
“Well, you must have some really aggressive rodents here”, Signe sighed as she pulled him up on a small cot close to the hearth and began to strip him of his clothes. The least she could do was to try, from a very amateurish point of view, assessing his damage and cleaning him up, bandaging him as best she could.  
The man chuckled as he looked up on her, but had to stop quickly as he groaned from pain, clutching his side. Signe untied his long blue robe and dug her way through several layers of clothes before she found the source of his pain. He had bled through all of the layers and it looked like a piece of an arrow was still stuck in his side.  
“I’ll need to pull that out”, Signe said, looking at the wound and the man named Vernon frowned, seeming almost delirious by now. “I’ll get some alcohol, hold this”, she put a clean piece of cloth into the mans hand, “and press it at the wound like this. I’ll need to boil some water an disinfect some tools, alright?”  
“Disinfe… What?” he looked up at her.  
“To prevent infection”, she said and pushed herself up from his side.  
“What?”  
Signe stared at him for a moment. They don’t know what an infection is? “It’ll make you better, I hope”, she said and then set to work. 

The man laid in the cot, groaning and moaning from pain whilst she prepared what metal tools she could find, burning them in the fire and boiling those she could, as well as several other pieces of cloth. She didn’t know much about taking care of deep wounds like this, but it sure as hell seemed she knew more than the average person in this completely and utterly absurd world. It really was medieval in every kind of aspect. The disgusting smells were everywhere, animals living in the same house as people, excrement poured out in the streets without a care – and now, this. It wasn’t strange that people died like flies here, except for the help of sorceresses, using actual _magic_ , well – not that Signe believed _that_. 

Before she set to work, she pulled the rest of the clothes on his upper body off, before washing her hands with strong vinegar once more. Then she began to try and pull the rest of the arrow out. It was hard, it really stuck inside his flesh and she was afraid she’d pull something inside him whilst getting it out, but eventually, she was able to dislodge it from him. Then, she cleaned out the wound with water and the boiled cloth, before sewing the wound shut, using a small, but still annoyingly thick needle and thread, before she bandaged him up as best as she could. Vernon, the man, had fainted when she pulled the arrow out and was still out as he lay on the cot.  
Signe wiped her forehead when she was done, falling back on her rump on the stomped mud floor inside the hut. She was utterly tired, but as she watched the man’s chest rise and fall, she could at least feel some sort of satisfaction from having helped him in some way. But, it didn’t take away from the fact that she now had a strange man inside the hut in which she lived. And she was alone.  
Not any strange man, she reminded herself. A fucking commander of an army. And there was a war going on. _Fuck_ , Anezka was going to kill her. 

 

She left the hut, locking the door behind her as she left, carrying pots filled with bloodied cloths and bandages, needing to clean them in the small river before bringing them inside and boiling them again. She also needed more water. From the looks of it, she was certain she needed to change his bandages soon again.  
She lay on her knees, scrubbing out the blood from the soaked fabric when two strong hands pulled her back and up from the river. Signed let out a cry of shock, but soon a hand clasped over her mouth, hindering her from uttering a word.  
“Don’t scream”, a voice all too familiar by now sounded from behind her.  
_Iorveth_. His hand was still clasped in a tight grip over her mouth and his other arm circled around her waist, holding her up against him as he lifted her up, backing her into a small gathering of trees. Signe tried to squirm herself out of his grip, but he was impossibly strong and before she knew it, he released her mouth, turning her and pressing her up against one of the trees. Her face was in the same height as his, as he held her up and she felt her legs dangle helplessly, trying to find some steady ground – but failing. 

“Now you listen and listen good, dh’oine”, Iorveth hissed through clenched teeth. His lips snarled, his upper lip perking up, giving him an almost feral look as his emerald eyes shone in the dim light from the large moon above them. “Do you know who the fuck you let into your home?”  
Signe gasped as she stared into his eyes, shaking her head almost franticly from the whole shock of the situation, “No, no”, she said. “I-… He said-“  
“You can’t trust whatever he said!” Iorveth snarled, pushing her hard into the tree again, pressing his body against her and bringing his hands up to cup her face. “He’s a murderer, a mass murderer. He’s killed thousands of men, women and children. Allowed women to be raped in front of their children, and _you let him into your home_. You stupid fucking dh’oine”  
“I- I didn’t know”, Signe croaked, grabbing Iorveth’s shoulders, trying to push him away from her, but he was too strong. “Please, release me”, she gasped, “You’re hurting me” 

Iorveth’s eye widened for a moment, before he gracelessly let go of her and backed away, leading to Signe dropping down on the ground with a dull thud, “Ouch!” Signe croaked as she reached down to pat the small of her back. “You could’ve just let me down a bit more gently, you twat”, her eyes bore into his, her fear now almost being taken over by anger for the way he seemed to time after time sneak up on her and without any kind of respect, taking the freedom to tell her what to do. Who the hell was _he_ , that he thought himself so high and mighty as to order her around like this?  
Iorveth huffed a snarl, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood, looking down on her for the third time in less than two months. 

Signe rose and got to her feet and quickly stepped over to Iorveth, pushing him back, “You can’t treat me like this! Who are you anyway, huh? If that man is a mass murderer and more or less a rapist, then _why_ , if you’re so goddamned concerned about me, didn’t you just break into my hut and kill him?” Signe pushed him again, completely ignoring their vast difference in height as she barked on like an angered pup, stomping her feet into the ground.  
Iorveth grabbed her wrists hard the third time she reached up to push him, leaning down and staring into her eyes, “Well, it does seem obvious that I’m wasting my time here”  
“Let go of me”, Signe hissed, jerking her hands back, trying to get him to let go, but he held her wrists steady in his strong hands.  
“No”, he said.  
“ _Let go_ ”, Signe seethed through her teeth, “Or I’ll scream”  
“You think that’s going to help you now? You’re all so fucking ignorant, you humans. I really thought you were different, dh’oine. Gods know why I would even begin to form such an absurd idea in the first place”, Iorveth pulled her closer to him, his face only an inch from her own.  
Signe could feel his hot breath on her skin as she looked up at him from narrowed eyes, he was twitching as his slim fingers circled her wrists and his eyes seemed to search her face. “Well, I don’t fucking know”, Signe snarled, tugging again with her arms. When her lips moved, she could almost feel his lips against her and while she was highly agitated, a heat rose within her. That goddamned heat pushing its way up from regions of her body she didn’t even want to acknowledge at the moment.  
She gasped and Iorveth’s eye widened again and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he pushed her away from him, pointing his whole hand into her chest.  
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dh’oine. That man is dangerous and if I ever see you in his company again, I can’t promise I won’t kill you both”, he roared at her, before turning and jumping up on a large moss-covered lodge leading away from the small holt. Signe stood there as he stomped away on the lodge, shaking from fury, from fear, from… She didn’t even know. She didn’t _want_ to know.  
That goddamned elf was fucking infuriating. 

She quickly gathered her pots and fabrics, splashing the water aggressively as she did so, before stomping her way back to the hut, swearing under her breath.  
When she entered the hut, the man, Vernon, the mass murderer and potential rapist, was still lying in bed, dozed off. She put the water-filled pot in the hearth to boil and sat down, dragging her hands over her face.  
What a fucking evening.

*


	4. Distractions

Iorveth narrowed his eyes, looking at the seemingly lifeless body of the nekker, lying on the mossy ground. A snarl came from his lips as he picked up a small flask filled with a green liquid. He quickly strode over to the nekker, splashing the liquid on the lifeless body, making it rouse from it’s unnatural sleep. He grabbed it in a strong fist and dragged the creature with him until he stood just above the sunken ground before the cave and then threw the creature down. He crossed his arms, waiting as the nekker’s head whipped around, looking – trying to understand its situation – then the large arachas emerged from behind the flush vegetation, as if coming out from a portal burning at the edges.  
It attacked its prey. 

Inside his hideout, his _home_ , Iorveth drove his knuckles into the stonewall, letting out several curses in Elder Speech.  
That fucking woman.  
A _human_ to boot, and he simply couldn’t keep himself from intervening. Had he finally lost his mind? At least, he could have knocked her out and broken into that godsdamned hut, killing that zealot Roche once and for all.  
What had he done instead?  
Manhandled the tiny little human, raging at her and threatening her. Like he _cared_ what happened to her. This was the third time. The third time that sodding dark, gleaming hair and midnight blue eyes made him halt, made him take another direction than he at first had set out to. 

The battle, had been a complete and utter fuck-up. The vatt’ghern the traitorous Letho had recognized – the Gwynbleidd and his halfling friend stumbled into his forest, looking for him and his Scoia’tael and almost killing his arachas, just to warn Iorveth that Letho, the Kingslayer, had betrayed him. The Gwynbleidd claimed the information came from Ciaran, and Iorveth, ever vigilant and suspicious, had listened but doubted. The vatt’ghern and himself decided they would bring Iorveth in binds to Letho, to see if the Gwynbleidd's accusations held true. 

He’d lost his temper, Iorveth sighed and shook his head thinking about it, clutching and unclutching his fists. That bloede dh’oine, that traitorous prick Letho. Iorveth had called on his commando, but their initial arrows where met with other arrows from behind Letho. _That whoreson_. 

A fight, a battle – broke out. Roche, the whoreson himself, Iorveth chuckled darkly to himself while thinking about the commanders suiting nickname, had back-up lying in wait. Of course, so had Iorveth. He hadn’t survived for close to 160 years by being unprepared. Letho had attacked the other vatt’ghern, the Gwynbleidd, and they disappeared fighting while Iorveth pursued Roche.  
Roche had eventually taken an arrow badly in his side and managed to run off, he was done for. But he escaped, the bastard. He followed Roche, but the next thing Iorveth knew, _Signe_ , of all the people in this godsforsaken place had dragged him inside the hut where she lived with that witch.  
At first, he considered bursting in there only to shield Signe from getting hurt by Roche, but he couldn’t simply stride into the hut without risking to be seen. An elf in Scoia’tael colours, walking around close to the small village? Bloede d’yaebl, that would be equal to mounting a brightly coloured signpost on his head for the Temerians, telling them where to aim.  
And why the fuck did he even consider helping her in the first place? If she was so completely ignorant and devoid of sense that she’d help a blue-stripe in the first place? Fuck her, that dh’oine varh’he! 

Iorveth drove his fist into the stone one more time, snarling from the pain as blood itched its way out from under his skin. He licked his knuckles, sinking down to the ground with his back against the stonewall.  
He shouldn’t and he fucking couldn’t. A human? The people he had following him wouldn’t take him seriously if they were to find out. They would think him truly insane, truly the mad man the humans spoke of when they talked in fear about him.  
He’d felt this, twice, perhaps not even that, once – maybe, in his life. Why did the gods deem to punish him with these feelings again – and worse – for a human whore? 

Iorveth pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them, leaning his head down between his knees. One breath, in – then out. Another, in – then out.  
Fuck her.  
In – then out. Slowly, carefully.  
In again – hold – and let go.

*

Vernon, the commander, woke up early the next morning with a groan that stirred Signe from her light sleep. She got up and looked at the man lying in the cot and he looked back at her.  
“How are you feeling?” she asked and Vernon’s hand reached down to touch his side carefully. He grunted, frowning.  
“What happened? Where am I?” he asked looking at her through narrowed eyes.  
“Lobinden. Well”, Signe said, “In a hut just outside of Lobinden”  
“Huh”, Vernon tried to sit up in the cot, but fell back down on his back.  
“You said you were attacked by rodents and as crazy as that sounds, I would guess it was elves and not squirrels”, Signe crossed her arms over her chest, watching him carefully.  
“Gods, woman”, Vernon groaned, “What’s that gibberish about rodents? The elves – the Scoia’tael, they’re the Squirrels. Where’re you from, not knowing even that much?”  
Signe huffed, walking over to the hearth and adding some new chucks of wood to the gleaming embers, thinking breakfast would be preferable.  
“Whatever”, she shrugged and Vernon cleared his throat.  
“In any case, thank you”, he peaked up at her from where he lay. “For taking me in, trusting-“  
“I don’t trust you”, Signe quickly spat and turned to him, piercing her eyes into his, “I have been told you’re a murderer, someone allowing the rape of women”  
“And on who’s authority is that, might I ask?” Vernon pulled himself up from the cot, sitting on its edge with his arms resting on his thighs.

Signe didn’t answer, instead she poured water into a pot and started preparing porridge to break the fast.  
Vernon sighed, shaking his head lightly, “Anyway, I should be on my way”, he said, reaching for his discarded clothes lying at the foot of the cot.  
“I need to change your bandages first”, Signe turned around and walked up to him, “You’ve bleed through during the night”  
“I can have someone do that in Flotsam”, Vernon said, his dark eyes catching hers.  
“It’s better I do that now, before you leave. Trust me”  
“What are you? A sorceress?” Vernon searcher her face as she kneeled before him, “Where are you from?”  
“Elsewhere”, Signe said quietly as she peeled off the bloodied bandages from around his torso. Vernon sat still, letting her work on him and when she was done, having redressed his wounds, he dressed in his clothes, groaning as he moved about in the small hut, sheathing his knife and sword, hanging his crossbow on his back. 

“Again, miss”, Vernon said as he turned for the door, “Thank you. I owe you debt. You’ll find me in Flotsam for the time being, if you’re ever in need of help”  
“Sure”, Signe nodded, stirring the oats in the pot. “You know”, she said, “Perhaps it’s best you eat something before you leave. Gather your strength”  
“I’ll be fine, thank you”, Vernon said, unlocking the door and stepping out. “You know where to find me”  
Signe nodded and then he walked out of her hut and Signe took a deep breath, finally relaxing somewhat.

*

“You seem agitated”  
Iorveth looked up to see Naeve walk into his cave, the elf leaning nonchalantly against the stonewall further away from where Iorveth sat. Naeve was one of his best archers, but not one Iorveth would consider a friend. To be honest, Iorveth, much due to his position as commander and leader of the Scoia’tael, didn’t have _friends_.  
Iorveth grunted, “What do you want, Naeve?” Iorveth asked.  
The younger elf looked down on him with his dark eyes, a smirk rising on his lips as he dragged one of his feet in the dirt. “I do know what calms you, commander”  
Iorveth narrowed his eyes as he looked at the lean elf before him. Naeve was handsome, lithe, and he kept his mouth shut about their occasional dalliances, perhaps this was what Iorveth needed? To bury himself in another person, for a few moments, to distract him from midnight blue eyes and traitorous vatt’gherns. A moment’s release, a moment of not having to think.

Iorveth rose from where he sat and walked over to the elf standing leaned against the stonewall, reaching up and cupping his chin in his hand.  
“You’ve come to offer yourself to me, Naeve?” Iorveth whispered into the elf’s ear. They were of similar height, Iorveth being only an inch or so taller and Naeve smirked, looking into his eyes.  
“Whatever you wish”, he answered quietly as he pushed his lips against Iorveth’s, encasing Iorveths usual snarl of hatred with soft, perk flesh. Iorveth grabbed a hold of the younger elf’s waist and pulled him against himself, closing his eyes and letting his tongue snake into Naeve’s mouth.  
A release.  
That’s what he sorely needed. Dark, almost black eyes – not midnight blue.  
Pointed elven ears – not rounded human ears.  
A hard prick – not soft, round hips and a warm wet cunt. 

Iorveth moaned into Naeve’s mouth and his hands started working on getting the young elf’s clothes off, at least enough so they could bring themselves off comfortably. Naeve’s hands easily found themselves under Iorveth’s kilt, palming his growing erection through his leather trousers.  
The whole scenario quickly turned frantic and Iorveth released Naeve’s mouth, instead grabbing him and pushing him further into the cave. He needed to bend the man over, plough him thoroughly. He pushed him down on a small cot-like heap of straw and fabrics as he made quick work of the young man’s trousers.  
“Turn around”, Iorveth hissed as he unclasped his own trousers, pulling his half hard prick out. 

 

Iorveth could have sworn she’d cast a bloody curse on him, that bloede dh’oine varh’he, because as he finally spilled himself inside Naeve, he caught himself imagining her below him, and not the young elf actually lying there. Not the sharply shaped and muscled, lithe frame of a mans back, but instead, what Iorveth saw was a soft bosom and stomach and long almost black locks of hair spilling down over pale, milky skinned breasts. A triangle of equally dark hair leading his gaze down to where he filled her completely with his _elven_ seed, as she moaned wantonly, clasping her soft, wet cunt around his hard cock.  
Iorveth panted and snarled as he pushed harder into Naeve, his body twitching and Naeve’s soft moans intruding on his imagined picture. Signe, she wouldn’t sound like that. Her voice, all too highly pitched, her lips, full and soft – almost shaped like a rounded heart on her mouth in perfect light crimson.  
She’s killing him. 

When his orgasm subsided, he pulled away from Naeve, sitting back on his heels, wiping his face. Naeve sat up on his elbows, looking at Iorveth with searching eyes.  
“I wasn’t good enough?” he said and Iorveth frowned, looking at the elf.  
“I’m distracted. You where perfectly pleasant. Now, leave me”, Iorveth pushed himself up from the make-shift cot and pulled up his trousers that still hung from his hips and fastening them under his kilt.  
He walked over to a table filled with weapons and searched around for arrows, he needed to prepare more arrows – he was running out.  
_Gods damn it all_ , Iorveth thought sourly and leaned down on his hands over the table, trying to focus his mind.

*


	5. A Murder of Soldiers and a Deviant

When the late summer here in this world turned into autumn, Signe learned that this was the best time to gather the last remaining herbs growing out in Anezka’s garden, before covering the plants for the winter, shielding them from the cold and the snow that were to come.  
She helped Anezka with all kinds of necessary things to prepare for the colder months, like fixing the isolation on their hut and drying meat, conserving vegetables and boiling cabbage and then fermenting it in large smelly barrels.  
She also learned how to make cheese, which she thought of as quite exciting. Of the foods here, which were scarily similar to traditional Polish cuisine, with a lot of spiced sausages, cabbage and potatoes, cheese were her favourite. Anezka already had an impressive and scarily old collection of smaller cheese wheels. Some of them so mouldy, Signe thought they would soon come to life and roll out of the hut. But the cheeses were exceptionally good, especially when served with sweet strong wine. 

It was during one of these autumn afternoons, when she lay on her knees out in a field, cutting off straws for the isolation of the hut, that what looked like a band of blue-striped soldiers, Temerian soldiers, Signe noted, walked across the field further away from her. She was uncertain if they’d noticed her in the tall yellow grass, but she decided it was best to duck down lower, hoping to go unnoticed and then run like hell back to Anezka.  
The soldiers, perhaps ten or so, walked leisurely and Signe couldn’t think of why they would be all the way out here. They most often stayed in Flotsam, only sometimes moving as far away from the port eventually leading out to the Pontar, as Lobinden. But this far out, they saw few soldiers. A few guards here and there, at most.  
The Scoia’taels presence seemed to put most military activity at bay, which all in all led most humans avoid the roads and fields going too far into the forest. Probably the reason Anezka chose to live here in the first place, few to disturb her – and when someone actually needed treatment, it had to be serious for them to even dare come see her. 

Signe spied on the soldiers drawing closer and closer to the forest, they seemed to hesitate a few times, but one of the soldiers, maybe a leader of some kind? Signe thought, looked as if he kept pushing them further and further ahead.  
Then, like a cloud in the beginning of a hailstorm, the forests seemed to move and suddenly, arrows rained down, pinning each and every now screaming and shouting blue-striped soldier to the ground, without any kind of mercy. A few of the soldiers got up and tried to run, throwing away their weapons and trying to shield themselves under their shields, but the arrows were merciless. They kept coming until every last soldier lay on the ground.  
Thereafter, when all movement had stopped, a few green-clad elves jumped down from the trees, or walked out of hiding and went to search the soldiers. The ones still breathing, got their throats cut before they could utter another word. 

Perhaps, Signe thought, it was time to leave. Perhaps _before_ she witnessed the murder of ten Temerian soldiers, had been the time to leave. Without thinking, she stood up and immediately, she regretted her action when the elves just as quickly turned around to look at her.  
Signe sprinted without a second’s doubt in the opposite direction from the elves, leaving her bag stuffed with straw and everything else she didn’t already have strapped on her. She was thankful the cold had her dressed in leather trousers and a layered coat, which meant she could move more freely than in a dress. But still, she’d never been one for exercise – exactly. The elves, however, living rough in the forests, where every bit as agile as a professional athlete and quickly caught up with her.  
“Voe’rle, dh’oine!” a male elf shouted and Signe looked back just in time to see a black haired elf sprint up to her and throw himself at her, forcing her to the ground. 

He held her down with a knee to her back and with a fist in her hair as the other two elves caught up with him.  
“Ah, a elaine beann’shie”, one of the elves said as he closed in on them. “Good catch Naeve”  
The elf sitting on her back chuckled, pulling her head back by her hair. “A _dh’oine_ beann’shie. She lives down in the hut at the forest’s edge, that a' way”, he nodded.  
“Let’s just kill her and be off”, the lone woman in the company sighed as she rinsed her nails of dirt with a small knife, looking bored.  
“Why not have some fun with her first?” the male not sitting on her back said, an obvious smirk on his face and Signe snarled, trying to fight off the man pressing her down into the ground.  
“Are you shitting me?” the female asked, looking at the man who had just spoken with a disgusted expression.  
“She’s pretty, for a human”, he shrugged, looking at the woman with a noncommittal expression.  
“Well”, the man holding her down got off of her and pulled her up, holding her wrists behind her back, “She might be pretty for a dh’oine, but I don’t think raping her would go down well with Iorveth”  
“Like he’d care. I could kill her afterwards”, the man Signe now had nicknamed ‘the rapist’ said, looking at her with hungry eyes and Signe tried to tug herself lose again, without any result.  
“Just let me go!” she snarled.  
“Why should we do that, dh’oine?” the woman spoke, looking at her with a raised brow. “I still say, it’s easier just to kill her. The pervert here can do whatever he wishes afterwards. It’s not rape if she’s not alive”  
The rapist shrugged, “True”  
“Fuck! Just let me go, I didn’t do anything!” Signe now almost screamed, trashing and turning in the strong grips of the man holding her.  
“What’s one more dead dh’oine?” the man holding her said, “Iorveth wouldn’t care. We killed the soldiers, she’s just another casualty”  
“Gah! You arseholes!” Signe snarled, “Iorveth will cut off your pricks if you touch me!” 

All three elves looked at her and then at each other. The rapist chuckled, taking a step closer to her, “Now, why would he do that, you little varh’he?”  
“Just fucking release me!” Signe jerked at her arms.  
“Do you know Iorveth, dh’oine?” the woman asked, “Do you know what he does to little bitches like you?”  
“Like I fucking care, let me go back to my hut. I didn’t see shit, alright?” Signe tried to calm her voice, but the disgusting smirk on the rapists face and his eyes constantly on her, proved difficult to ignore.  
“Well, we need to move out”, the man holding her said, “I suppose Iorveth can kill you himself, if that is what you wish” 

The elves brought her with them into the forest, but not before they covered her eyes with a stinking and disgustingly damp cloth, so that she could see anything around her. The walk lasted for quite a while and every now and again, Signe almost stumbled over branches and stumps – not being able to see where she put her feet.  
Soon, she could hear more voices around her and it seemed as if people were moving around her. They spoke silently as she was being lead through what at least smelled like some kind of small village or settlement.  
“Dh’oine”, the man who had held her said, “Sit down”, and he guided her to something that felt like a stump or something of the kind, and pushed her down to sit. Voices was murmuring around her and she could smell a fire burning and something cooking. Onions, maybe. Garlic, definitely, perhaps some meat. It was difficult to assess completely.  
She sat still where she had been placed for a while, rolling her eyes silently at the whole situation. Well, wasn’t this just a merry way to die?  
She had been lucky, since she came here. People died of all sorts of things in this world. And, well, that wasn’t all too different from her own world. But they died so very much more horrible deaths here. A cut in the hand could kill you in a week’s time, starving and picking the wrong type of berry in the woods, could kill you in two hours if unlucky. Or leave you with a bad case of diarrhoea and fever. She’d suffered diarrhoea, for sure. Her stomach had only now, after several months started to get used to all the new bacteria. The first days where horrible. She couldn’t drink a mug of water without having to run to the outhouse – but now, it seemed her body had finally settled down.  
And so far, no one had pointed any more arrows or swords at her, except for her first run-in with these goddamned elves. And, well - _this_. 

After a while, she heard footsteps approaching and soon, the cloth covering her eyes was ripped off with such force, she almost fell off the stub on which she was sitting. When she was able to look around, she realized it wasn’t a stub, but a large log, but, whatever. But what did matter, was that when she looked up, she was met by an angry emerald green eye staring down on her, twitching.  
“You’ve kidnapped the witch’s assistant?” Iorverth growled, looking at the man that had held her and the rapist. The woman who was with them sat a bit further off, chewing on a stick. “A d'yaebl aép arse!” Iorveth snarled and threw the cloth he held in his hand away aggressively.  
“You know”, Signe said and looked up at Iorveth, who fell silent and stared at her with a snarl on his lip, “That one”, she pointed at the rapist, “Said he wanted to rape me, alive or dead. Did you know you had such deviants in your little scout-group?”  
“Scout-“, Iorveth dragged a hand over his face, “What!?” 

Everyone else around them was silent, and the rapist had for some reason taken a step back – and when Iorveth turned to stare wildly at him, he took another few steps back.  
“She’s a dh’oine beanna, a varh’he”, the rapist said, holding his hands up as Iorveth quickly strode up to him and punched him in the face, making the rapist fall back on the ground.  
“What the fuck have I told you bloede imbeciles, I don’t stand with rape! The _humans_ rape our women – are you as low as a fucking human, now?” Iorveth stood over him, raving and spitting.  
“N-no”, the rapist shook his head, “I-I don’t-“  
“If I ever hear that you’ve tried anything like that again, I will string you up on a pole and disembowel you myself, you degenerate whoreson”, Iorveth kicked the rapist’s side and strode away towards Signe who still sat on the lodge with her hands tied behind her back.  
“You. Come”, he ordered Signe and grabbed her coat, dragging her off from what was a camp in the middle of the forest.  
“Where are you taking me?” she hissed as Iorveth stomped away with her in tow.  
“Shut up, dh’oine”, he seethed between his teeth. 

Where was he taking her? Well, that question was easily answered. To a cave guarded by a monster.  
Signe watched as a smaller monster was thrown as bate for the larger one and as it was devoured, Iorveth brought her into the damp cave. He let her lose from her bindings and she immediately touched her aching wrists, even in the murky light inside the cave she could see the marks from the harsh rope that had cut into her wrists. 

Inside, the cave was more lit up and even more so the deeper inside one got. It seemed to have a few small openings, something like a few different rooms. One had a cocking station, looking like some ancient kind of camping kitchen. Around it were some stumps to sit on and in the corner, a straw bed, or cot – something she supposed he slept on – stood. There was also several tables filled with all kinds of _very_ medieval weapons. Crossbows and regular bows seemed to be favoured, but there were some swords and knives as well, and a black-jack or two.  
Signe walked around silently inside the cave, while Iorveth looked at her with suspicion in his one eye. She walked over to one of the tables and lightly touched one of the crossbows lying there, watching the intricate pattern carved into the wood.  
“You’re not going to talk to me?” Signe said, looking back over her shoulder at Iorveth, who stood leaned against the opposite stonewall with his arms crossed over his chest.  
“What do you want me to say?” his voice was deep and his eye pierced her in a way that made her blush slightly. Always this goddamned heat, Signe thought as she cleared her throat and looked back down on the crossbow.  
“Well”, she said, “You always seem to want to scold me, or tell me what to do. Got anything to add for this situation?” 

Iorveth huffed with a snarl of his lips, pushing himself away from the stonewall. “I don’t”, he said.  
“Alright then”, Signe shrugged. “Can I go home, now? Anezka’s probably going to start worrying soon”  
“The witch?”  
Signe nodded.  
A silence came over them both and they stood there for a while, Iorveth having moved closer to her, but not too close. It seemed as if he, for once, wanted to keep some distance between them.  
“What happened to your eye?” Signe said, breaking the silence.  
“A spear”, Iorveth said, narrowing his eye and looking away.  
“How far does the scar go?”  
“What kind of a question is that, dh’oine?” Iorveth looked up at her and Signe couldn’t help but to smile.  
“I’m a curious person, that’s all”  
Iorveth huffed. 

Signe turned and walked closer to Iorveth, he really was tall, and she stood looking up into his eye, feeling dwarfed standing so close to him. His face was filled with hatred and it seemed he almost never smiled, that pert little gorgeous mouth in a constant state of a drawn back snarl. He was stunningly beautiful, even with the scar and the crimson bandana covering half his face. The ears, well, they took some getting used to for Signe, but now – she thought them quite beautiful, adding to the exotic looks of the elves with their slightly more tinted complexions and almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and sharp chins.  
She reached up, touching the scar where it ended, just above his upper lip, following it lightly with her index-finger. Iorveth twitched, but didn’t pull back. When she reached up to his bandana, he gripped her wrist and leaned down, his face meeting hers. Signe pushed herself up on her toes and carefully pressed her lips against his and she felt his other arm snake around her waist as his lips started to move against hers.  
His lips were soft and they felt fuller than they were, as if they swelled somewhat when kissing. His taste, along with how he smelled, of forest, burning embers and something else, something almost sweet, made her head spin. She chanced a nip at his lower lip and he groaned slightly from deep down his throat and pushed his tongue in between her lips, meeting her own in a slow swirl, as their lips moved together. 

Then, fast steps approached them and Iorveth let go of her immediately, pushing her away from him. Signe wiped her mouth, turning away from Iorveth, as another elf – in fact – the black haired one who had escorted her here from the field, entered the cave.  
“What is it, Naeve?” Iorveth snapped.  
“A vatt’ghern is in camp, he wants to speak with you. It’s the Gwynbleidd”, the elf named Naeve said. 

Iorveth nodded and Naeve left. Signe turned around again and looked at Iorveth, who glanced at her from the side, where he stood frowning with his hand on the hilt of his bent sword.  
“I’ll be back, don’t try to leave. That arachas is not there for show”, he murmured thoughtfully as he watched her. Signe touched her lips with one hand and hugged her waist with the other, nodding. “There’s some food in the pot, eat something”  
“Alright”, she said, looking up at him. 

Iorveth left the cave and Signe walked around a bit more, looking at the things inside, before sitting down by the fire that burned in the cooking station. She peered down into the pot and saw a brown stew of some sort. It didn’t look very appetizing, but she was starting to feel the ache of hunger in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was beginning to grow dark outside.  
Beside the fire, a few bowls and spoons stood, as well as some flask of something – beer, perhaps? She took a bowl and a spoon and scooped up some of the stew, smelling it before tasting it carefully. It was very hot, coming straight out of the pot and it had a distinct gamy flavour, along with garlic and beets. It would do, she surmised and started eating. When she was done, she took one of the bottles and tried to pull out the cork, but it was completely stuck in there, but after having almost bitten the cork off with her teeth, it finally released the bottle. It was indeed beer and good beer, for that matter. 

Iorveth didn’t seem to hurry back, or he’d become busy with something else, since he didn’t return for what seemed like hours. Eventually, after having looked at everything in the cave twice, she decided to lie down in what she guessed was his bed. It didn’t take long before she was as sleep, her body ignoring the itching straw and the cold leaking in from the unblocked entrance of the cave.

*


	6. Debauchery and Terrorism

“Do you know that dh’oine?” Naeve asked Iorveth as he arrived down at the small camp. Iorveth looked at the dark-haired elf and his equally dark eyes, with a frown.  
“No”, Iorveth answered in a curt tone before walking into the centre of the camp, where the Gwynbleidd waited for him. 

“Gwynbleidd”, Iorveth crossed his arms over his chest, taking the vatt’ghern in, “Aren’t you busy chasing Letho down? As I understand it, he went off with your lover, the crimson-haired baenn’shie”  
“Watch your tongue, Iorveth”, the vatt’ghern took a step closer to Iorveth. His split yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness surrounding them this deep into the wood. They stood at about the same height, Geralt, as the vatt’ghern was called, was tall for his mutant race.  
“What do you want?” Iorveth changed his stance, scowling.  
“Loredo is about to hang two of my friends, as well as some of your Scoia’tael, Ciaran is amongst them”, Geralt imitated Iorveth’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s also imprisoned elven women, some of them yours, as well”  
“So? My people are willing to die for our cause”, Iorveth said.  
“Well, my friends aren’t”, Geralt said.  
“They’re about to hang for being members of the Scoia’tael, your friends?” Iorveth chuckled, “Who are these friends of yours?”  
“Not both…” Geralt rolled his eyes, looking away slightly, before groaning slightly in frustration, “One of them, a dwarf, Zoltan. He was with me the last time we met”  
Iorveth shrugged, “Doesn’t ring a bell”  
“You’re an ignorant fuck, do you know that?” Geralt took yet another step closer, clasping the hilt of a knife at his hip. Within a second, Iorveth had five archers at the ready behind and above him, aiming poisoned arrows at the vatt’ghern. Geralt looked up and backed off, holding his hands up. “Dandelion, well…”, Geralt sighed, “Have been charged with debauchery” 

Iorveth could have laughed at the absurdity, alas, humans never amused him unless he was cutting their guts open and using their intestines to strangle them, and so he stared at the vatt’ghern with an emotionless expression.  
“And you wish for me to do what, exactly?” Iorveth said. “Storm the town? For your two comrades, a man-whore and a halfling? I’d think the limped pricked scumbag Roche could have done more, but instead you come to me, taking up my time”  
Geralt sighed, scratching his stubble, “Believe me, it’s not like I have a lot of other choices” 

Iorveth thought for a moment, he did still own Geralt a debt for not fucking him over completely during the fight with Letho, when Roche showed up. He had given Iorveth his sword back, had he not, there would have been a grand chance that Iorveth had been captured by Roche and his men. And he supposed it didn’t hurt to save some of his Scoia’tael whilst helping the vatt’ghern out, even though the Scoia’tael was strict on that point – they almost _never_ tried to free those who’d been captured. Guerilla warfare did not allow for such luxuries. You worked with the able bodies you had.  
“We need a rouse”, Iorveth said, letting his arms fall to his sides as he walked up to the vatt’ghern. “Tell Loredo you’ve captured me and want to hand me over to him”  
Geralt looked at him with query eyes, “And you?”  
“I’ll be unarmed, hands bound”, Iorveth sighed, “I don’t trust you, of course – but my warriors will cover us if you try anything stupid”  
“I get it”, the vatt’ghern nodded.  
“I don’t think so”, Iorveth chuckled without a smile, shaking his head as he closed the distance completely between them, “Do anything stupid and they’ll tie you up on an anthill, face coated with honey. You’ll scream so loud even the Stormriders will hear you”, Iorveth pointed up into the sky before he backed away from Geralt again.  
“Are you always so grandiose?” Geralt opened his palms in a shrug.  
“Ayd f’haeil moen Hirjeth taenverde”, Iorveth mused, crossing his arms over his chest once more.  
“Conquer with curage rather than strength?” Geralt asked with a frown. Iorveth mockingly clapped his hands at the vatt’ghern.  
“Exactly”, Iorveth nodded once. “When are they to hang?”  
“Tomorrow, midday”, Geralt answered.  
Iorveth’s eyebrows knitted together in thought, “Where are they held?”  
“A prison-barge, in the port”  
“Then we need to leave as soon as we’re able”  
“Let me know when you’re ready”, the vatt’ghern said, nodding, before turning to stalk off somewhere close to their camp.

*

“No, she’s staying here”, Signe roused from her sleep, hearing agitated voices closing in on the cave, along with a wretched scream from one of the small monsters being devoured by the large monster. Footsteps stomped, two, three people? She frowned and pulled herself up from the pile of straw and fabric. She’d found a blanket to pull over herself as she slept for what she guessed were at least a few hours, and as the people came closer to the second opening, leading in to where she was, she curled up into the blanket.  
“Here? Why?” another voice asked, “Who is she, you said you didn’t know her?”  
“I don’t”, that voice was Iorveth, Signe recognized it.  
“Well, you want me to shackle her?” the other voice said. Ah, Naeve, of course.  
“We could hang her up a tree”, a third voice sounded just as they rounded the corner, being greeted by Signe sitting curled up in Iorveth’s bed. “Or not, because she’s in your bed”  
“Or _because_ she’s in your bed”, Naeve for some reason, looked furious, gesticulating fiercely towards Signe.

“Bloede d’yaebl, voe’rle!” Iorveth reached his arms out, “Shut the fuck up and just do as I said”  
“So _I_ have to stay here, babysitting a fucking dh’oine?” the third voice said. The voice belonged to an elf that Signe couldn’t tell whether it was a he or a she. “It”, looked very androgenic, with short auburn hair and a flat chest, skinny and not as tall as Iorveth or Neave.  
“Someone has to do it, Tir”, Naeve huffed, “Just glad it’s not me”, he said and stared daggers Signe’s way.  
Tir snarled and went to sit by the fire. 

“You two, get out. I’ll fetch you before I leave”, Iorveth said as he stood by one of the tables, collecting arrows and seemingly looking for something.  
“But-“, Neave protested.  
Iorveth looked over his shoulder with his good eye, “Fuck, just do as I say!”  
Tir pushed Neave’s shoulder, forcing him to leave, but not before the dark-haired elf cast another hateful glance Signe’s way. 

Signe sat in the bed, watching Iorveth as he worked at the table, the silence ruling again as the two elves footsteps disappeared out of the cave. After some time, Signe cleared her throat, gaining no attention from Iorveth who was now sharpening the knife he wore on his chest armour.  
“You’re keeping me here?” She finally asked. He stood with his bad eye to her and he only grunted in answer, not even looking at her. “You can’t do that”, Signe said and stood up.  
“I can”, Iorveth answered calmly, lightly touching the edge of his knife with his fingertips, before sheathing it in its scabbard.  
“No, you _can’t_ ”, Signe said with a more determined tone in her voice, as she walked up to him, forcing him to look at her by pulling his arm to her.  
“Yes, I can”, he repeated, reaching out and touching her throat with his long, elegant fingers. “I can do whatever I want, I told you – this forest is mine. And you’re here, in _my_ forest”  
“That doesn’t mean you can do what you wish with me”, Signe looked up at Iorveth with defiance.  
He scowled and let go of her throat, “I don’t have time to bring you back to your hut right now”  
“Where are you going?” Signe asked.  
“Flotsam”  
“I live on the way there, you idiot”  
“So?” Iorveth cocked his head, looking down at her with that utterly annoying and defiant, but still oh so attractive snarl on his upper lip.  
“What do you mean ‘so’? It’s on the fucking way! What, you’re riding a car without enough seats in it? Flying there? Getting there by one of those fucking _hilarious_ witch-tunnels or whatever the fuck you call them?”  
Iorveth just stared at her, now with more confusion than his usual grimace of hate and anger.  
“Just take me home, you brute!” Signe pushed him.  
Iorveth wrapped his arms around her, inclosing her in his embrace, pressing her head against his chest, “No”, he almost whispered. Signe punched his chest with the one hand she could move in his tight embrace.  
“Tell me why”, Signe sighed, giving up.  
“It’s not safe, I want you to wait until I’m back”  
“Why?”  
“I’m not telling you more”  
“Please”  
Iorveth released her, still holding his hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes, “I’m not going to tell you, just fucking do as I say and stay put, yes?”  
“Why did you kiss me before?” Signe reached up, touching his bared cheekbone with the tips of her fingers.  
“You kissed me”  
“You kissed back”

Iorveth twitched, his upper lip almost jumping slightly, “I need to leave. I’ll come back as soon as I can”  
Signe huffed, turning and walking back to the pile of hay that was apparently _her_ bed for the night, and possibly many nights to come, depending on when Iorveth felt he was to return from whatever the hell he was going to do. She sat down heavily and leaned back against the cold rock wall, narrowing her eyes as she watched the elf strapping himself with enough weapons to, probably, supply half an army. 

Before he left, he walked over to her and kneeled before her, clasping his hands over her cheeks, “I wont be long. You’re going home, trust that at least”  
Signe had to push tears back at his words, pictures of John coming to her mind and she shook her head.  
“I’ve not kidnapped you, Signe”, Iorveth almost whispered, searching her face. “Just.. Keeping you out of harms way”  
“I know, I think”, she said quietly, not looking up at him.  
“I’ll be back, rest and eat. No one’s going to hurt you here”  
Signe nodded and Iorveth leaned in and kissed her lips, before he stood back up and whistled. As Tir and Neave returned inside the cave, he pulled on his leather gloves and then walked out in long, determined strides, leaving Signe in the cave with Tir.  
At least Tir didn’t stare at her with murder in her eyes, only a healthy heap of disgust.

*


	7. Prison Barge Break

“Halt! Who goes there?” the moronic guard held his fat paw up and Geralt stopped with Iorveth beside him. Iorveth narrowed his eyes in disgust as he looked at the guard.  
“The witcher”, Geralt said, stepping up to the guard but still holding Iorverth in a tight grip. “I’ve captured an elf”  
“Some catch”, another equally stupid looking guard walked up and stared at Iorveth with disbelief. “That’s Iorveth! Loredo’ll piss himself with joy”  
“He ordered me to take him to the barge”, Geralt said, pushing Iorveth for some extra effect.  
“Ha!” one of the guards barked, “We’re about to sink that heap”  
“Right here?” Geralt asked.  
“What? And foul the water? No”, the guard shook his head, “We’ll drown ‘em down river”  
Iorveth looked down into the ground, clenching his teeth with anger.  
Geralt nodded, before turning to Iorveth, “Let’s go”

 

“Iorveth’s been caught, close the gates tight! I don’t want a flea slipping through”, the guard shouted behind Iorveth and the vatt’ghern as they walked inside Flotsam, towards the port. Iorveth’s hands were bound behind his back as Geralt pushed him from behind. 

“Want to hear something funny, Gwynbleidd?” Iorveth spoke silently as they walked through the streets. People were standing all around, watching as the terrifying elven terrorist was being paraded, caught and humiliated.  
“What?” Geralt answered.  
“I made life for these dh’oine a living hell. Yet”, he chuckled slightly as he spoke, “I’ve never been here before”  
“Hm, now that you see the hell you helped to create, what do you make of it?” Geralt said and stopped them for a moment, urging Iorveth to look around.  
He looked, and saw nothing. Flesh and bone, filth and awful stenches, human degenerates swimming in their own filth. “They see me for the first time as well”, Iorveth answered, “Yet, I sense not a hint of remorse”  
“Should there be any?” Geralt asked.  
”I suppose not. They wish to watch me die and I wish to watch them die. It’s the way of things in this world”, Iorveth said and looked up into the sky above them, “The other side of the coin, a concept devised by philosophers in Oxenfurt who has never set foot in Flotsam, or any place like it”, Iorveth snarled, looking down again and began to walk forward, towards the port.  
“No one’s going to die today, Iorveth”, Geralt said, probably as emotionless as he always was, but Iorveth could only guess his expressions from where they walked. “Apart from the commandant’s paid lackeys" 

The people who stood around, screamed obscenities at Iorveth, throwing rotten food at him, perhaps some of it was shit as well, he couldn’t tell.  
Somehow, it all felt sad for some reason. But Iorveth knew, he couldn’t let that sadness get to him. The people standing around him just then and there, screaming and throwing things, were doing just what he wanted them to do. To prove him right. To prove that they were, indeed, lesser, for being what they were. Humans.  
Where there had once stood proud elven cities, beautiful and magnificent in their own glory – now instead stood filthy towns and larger cities, with low, square buildings and shit running through the streets. Strumpets and other deviants plying their trade freely and poisoning everything around them, only adding to the cesspool they all lived in the middle of.  
Yet, when his eyes fell on a woman in a torn dress, with dark curling hair and pale, bruised skin – he stopped in his tracks, causing Geralt to almost walk into him. His mind wandered, and for only a second, he thought he saw Signe standing there. Beaten up, bruised with torn clothes. His heart jumped and he felt a blind rage rise within him – until he looked closer at her, and of course, realized it wasn’t Signe at all. It was only another filthy, poor sod who stood there, taking up a space in a world where she didn’t belong. 

“Oi! Where you taking that elf?” A short little chubby guard stopped them, looking at Iorveth suspiciously. Iorveth wanted to spit on him, but reined in the feeling, remaining content with only eyeing him hatefully.  
“It’s Iorveth. Loredo ordered me to put him on the prison barge”, Geralt answered the funny looking guard, tugging Iorveth’s arm hard, making him fall back a few steps.  
“Fuck me”, the guard gasped and held his arms out, staring at Iorveth in disbelief, “Iorveth himself. This son of a bitch shot me brother, mind if I set the score a little?” the tiny bastard asked and Iorveth could see the anger in his eyes. It made him laugh on the inside, at his righteous anger. A pathetically feeble attempt, only willing to ‘settle scores’ when the wicked stood tied up in binds before you.  
“Alright”, Geralt said and now Iorveth wished he’d spit on the guard when he first had had the thought. Iorveth gave Geralt a harsh look with his good eye, “Have your fun, but make it quick”  
The guard jabbed Iorveth in the stomach, the punch was as feeble as the guard’s mind probably was, Iorveth though as he fell back a few steps, but easily straightened up again.  
“That’s for my brother, elven bastard”, the guard snarled, looking even more pathetic then before. 

“Did you see that little dh’oine whore?” Iorveth seethed, as he continued their walk again, getting closer to the barge, “I like his kind best”, Iorveth chuckled without smiling, “Killing them is like pulling weeds. Strangely relaxing”  
Geralt remained quiet and soon, they boarded the prison barge where Geralt’s friends were kept, as well as Ciaran and a few other of the Scoia’tael who had been caught. The guards looked at them with stern eyes as they walked aboard, two guards walked up to meet them. Before one of the guards grabbed Iorveth’s shoulder to lead him away, Geralt whispered to him, “I’ll take those on the left, you go right” 

Iorveth didn’t nod or make any sign that he’d heard the vatt’ghern, but he didn’t need to. The guard grabbed his shoulder and pushed him to move right and so Iorveth did. The guard pushed him again to walk faster while Iorveth swore under his breath in Elder Speech until he heard the first scream from when Geralt head-butted the guard to his left, pulling out his sword and driving it through him.  
Iorveth reacted immediately, by pushing the guard leading him, off of the barge, and into the water. When the water splashed from the guards fat body hitting it, Iorveth swirled around and in just that moment, Geralt threw the sword through the air, straight into an oncoming guard.  
“ **Scoia’tael**!” Iorveth roared as he gripped the hilt of the sword piercing the guard’s body. 

The fucking ship was littered with guards and after only a minute more, Iorveth had lost count on how many filthy dh’oine he’d cut open of chopped the head off. The adrenaline was pumping through his body and his eye twitching from the high that came with the strenuous wielding of a sword. He was covered in blood and he could taste the metallic flavour of it on his lips when he wetted them. More and more guards poured out from the doors of the barge and at one moment, Iorveth doubted it would ever seize.  
But it did, and soon, Iorveth stood with his arms hanging to his sides with he sword still in his hand, panting, as blood dripped from all over him. A few cuts and bruises, here and there – but he felt no pain nor could he locate any major injuries on himself. The adrenaline was making him shake somewhat, coming down from his high. 

Eventually, they were able to make it into the lower decks of the barge, freeing Ciaran and the rest of the Scoia’tael – along with Geralt’s annoyingly chatty puff of a friend and that godsdamned halfling. Oh, Iorveth recognized him alright, but mainly for wanting to cut his prick of with a dull knife for being an utter imbecile.  
When they came up from the lower deck, the filthy bastard whoreson Loredo stood on the balcony of a tall tower close to the port with an elven girl beside him, screaming about torching the whole building with all the women inside.  
“I knew you’d partner with those hate-mongers, mutant!” Loredo shouted, waving that torch around, holding the elven girl by her hair. “Think yourself a hero do ya? Sail away and I’ll burn these sluts alive!” the mad man roared. 

Iorveth walked up to Geralt, looking at him. “We sail”, Iorveth said with a determined voice. They needed to get out of Flotsam now and at the moment, there was no way they could walk back through town and out into the forest. “As I told you before, our women are prepared to die”  
“But I’m not prepared to let murder happen”, Geralt said before he jumped over the railing and onto a pier. Iorveth whipped around and watched the mad vatt’ghern run off towards the house where the women where held.  
“Bloede dh’oine!” Iorveth snarled, and soon, he saw the puff and the halfling jump overboard after the vatt’ghern, chasing after him, as Loredo threw the torch alighting the whole building.  
Iorveth waved for the Scoia’tael aboard the barge to jump over, and then he followed himself, swimming towards the building. Everything happened so fast, the screaming and the thick smoke from the burning buildings. Loredo must have drenched them in oil or something extremely flammable, because the buildings more or less exploded. 

When Iorveth and his warriors reached the buildings, it was too late. They had collapsed completely. Iorveth felt disgusted. While the screams of the women burning alive had drenched the entire port, the people closest to them, had only stood there – not doing a thing, but simply watching. He wiped water off of his face and panted, his limbs starting to grow all too tired from the adrenaline pumping around inside him, leaving him shaking.  
At least, he’d been able to get Ciaran and a few other warriors to safety. It was time to return to the camp, to his hideout. They had the barge, which was going to be useful in the events that awaited them, but for now – he needed some rest. 

“Prepare to set sail!” Iorveth roared and pointed with his whole hand.

*

Signe sat on the pile of straw, chewing on her fingernails, staring in silence at Tir who sat by the fire, poking a stick into it and smoking a pipe, casting her glances every now and then. They sat like that for an hour or more, before Signe fell asleep, still sitting up with her blanket wrapped around her.  
When she woke up a few hours later, it was morning and Tir was cooking something in the pot, breakfast possibly. Signe hoped so, because her stomach growled as she sat up, wiping her eyes. Tir looked up at her and huffed, before grabbing a bowl and filling it, pouring beer into it and walking it over to Signe.  
“’Ere you go”, the elf said, more or less throwing the bowl into Signe’s lap.  
“What is it?” Signe asked, looking down into the bowl. It was porridge… She guessed. Slightly more brown than she was used to. And the always gruesome beer with it, instead of milk or syrup. Anezka had looked at her like she was mad the first time she’d refused to eat her morning porridge with beer or ale and instead poured milk into her bowl and adding a dollop of butter and a spoonful of honey. ‘What a waste! You can’t eat it like that every time’, Anezka had said, but Signe had kept eating her morning porridge _just like that_ and eventually Anezka had relented.

Signe grabbed the spoon Tir had stuck into the porridge and again, sniffed the contents of her bowl before she tasted it. She supposed Iorveth would be kind of pissed if Tir poisoned her, and it seemed no one wanted to piss off Iorveth here, so she deduced that the porridge would be safe to consume.  
The taste, however, was awful. It tasted of the stew from yesterday, mixed with meal and something akin to oats – more like, buckwheat, boiled into nothingness. That along with the added wetness of the beer, made her slightly nauseous. 

When she looked up, she watched Tir sitting down and eating a bowl of her own. She had decided Tir would have to be a woman, she wasn’t sure – but it didn’t feel right thinking of her or him as ‘it’. It was a bit strange to Signe, not being able to tell whether someone was a man or a woman. Back home, women were supposed to look like women and men like men. Those who looked different, were cast off as deviants and outcasts from society. Homosexuals were prosecuted and jailed, and it was completely out of the question for a man to dress like a woman. Unless it was for a film, or the theatre.  
She had met her fair share of deviants, due to her parents' professions. Her father had told her about the theatres of Berlin in the 1920’s, before he had met her mother and the complete debauchery that went on there. It seemed like they had a lot of fun though. Fun, was what one needed when war had destroyed everything around you. In the aftermath of war and during it, you needed to do your best to make your everyday life as good as possible, what with the deaths, suffering, shortage of food and the costs of rebuilding society. 

She supposed things here weren’t much different after all. Only, they were in the middle of wartime here as well. Society after society, fell apart. At least if she was to believe Anezka. Signe still knew so very little about this strange world, still not understanding it and the things that happened around her. 

Why had Iorveth wanted her to stay here? Was something going to happen in Lobinden? Or in Flotsam?  
No one seemed to have returned as of yet, and Signe was really starting to worry about Anezka. What if something happened? What if she was hurt?  
Signe needed to help her, she couldn’t stay here – as a prisoner. She understood that Iorveth had wanted her to stay to protect her. But it seemed as if he was constantly trying to force her into doing things, and she wouldn’t really have minded – it wasn’t bad having someone looking after you, especially not in a foreign world. But, he didn’t get to decide what she could and couldn’t do.  
She still didn’t truly know who he even was. 

“Tir?” Signe piped up and Tir stopped shovelling food into her mouth and looked up at her. “This might be a… Strange question”, Signe hesitated, biting her lower lip in thought, “But, what does Iorveth do?”  
Tir looked confounded as she eyed her, then she snorted and began laughing. “You’re joking right?” she said between her laughs, “How stupid are you, dh’oine?”  
Signe looked at her in confusion, shaking her head slightly. “I-I’m not from here”, Signe said, “So… I actually don’t know who he is”  
“He’s our commander”, Tir said, slurping some beer off her spoon.  
“He’s a Scoia’tael commander?” Signe asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
“Mm, he’s our leader”, Tir still tried to contain her laughs as she nodded. “How can you _not_ know that? Even if you’re not from here, he’s known all over the kingdoms” 

“What is it that the Scoia’tael wants?” Signe asked after a moment’s thought, “I mean, are you some kind of political party?”  
“Political party? What even is that?” Tir looked at her like Signe was an idiot, “What we want, is to take back what was once ours, before _your_ kind took it from us, killing and destroying everything we had built up for thousands and thousands of years. Turning us into second class citizens, nought more than thralls”  
“I-I’m sorry”, Signe said, “That sounds horrible”  
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Tir put her bowl down and stared at Signe, “You don’t know any of these things?”  
“No… Not really”, Signe said, shaking her head.  
“Does that have something to do with Iorveth keeping you here? You being daft or something?” Tir asked and Signe frowned.  
“I’m not daft”, she said defensively, “I’m just not from here”  
“Then where are you from?” Tir rose and walked over to Signe, “Are you from another dimension?”  
“W-What?” Signe croaked, “Why would you say that?”  
Tir rolled her eyes, “You don’t even know about the Conjunctions of the Spheres?”  
“Should I?”  
“Gods above!” Tir exclaimed, gesticulating as if was the most basic knowledge possible, “You hit your head or something?”  
“I don’t think so”, Signe shook her head, “Maybe?” 

Tir sat down on the ground beside the bed and looked up at Signe. The disgust in her eyes had lessened somewhat and instead, there was some confusion mixed with curiosity as she looked at her.  
“I would tell you about it, but”, she hesitated, “There might be some reason Iorveth is keeping you here and, if I told you something he didn’t want me to, well, he wouldn’t be very happy, would he?”  
“I suppose not”, Signe shrugged. “Hey”, she said, “Do you know why he had to leave? I’m afraid something might be going on where I live. I live with someone, a friend, and I’m just worried something might have happened to her, seeing as Iorveth wouldn’t let me go home while he was away”  
“There was something in Flotsam”, Tir said, “Don’t think I can tell you more. But, you live in that hut, just outside Lobinden?”  
Signe nodded, “Yes, do you think whatever it is that’s going on in Flotsam could have spread to Lobinden as well?”  
Tir shrugged, “’Tis possible, I suppose”, she looked down on her hands, “Not much we can do now, in any case. Not until Iorveth is back”  
“And I don’t suppose you could walk me home?” Signe looked at the small elf beside her. Tir burst into laugh, looking at her again like she was some kind of alien being, which she kind of was.

*


	8. Iorveth's Truth

They sailed the barge further down the Pontar, before throwing anchor and securing it at a safe distance from Flotsam. Iorveth ordered some of his warriors to stay on the barge and as soon as he reached camp, he’d send a few more down to guard it, letting those who’d been with him during its taking, rest until they continued to Vergen. He'd promised the vatt'ghern to take him to Aedirn, where Letho had taken his daerienn. Now, however, they were all weary and even the chatty puff, Dandelion, that Iorveth simply couldn’t understand why the vatt’ghern kept the company of, was quiet.  
Camp was quite a bit away, but the way there consisted mainly of forest and so Iorveth along with Ciaran and a few others started walking back. When he’d jumped into the water, some of the shit and blood he was drenched in, had washed away – but he could still smell himself as he walked.  
_Disgusting dh’oine_ , he thought, looking down on the smears of rotten food and shit still staining his clothes and armour. The stains of blood, didn’t matter as much, since at least it didn’t smell quite as awful, but he still needed a good wash – both his clothes and he himself. The layers closest to his body were still damp and the coolness of the autumn kept him from completely drying. The fabrics itched and it annoyed him as he walked, keeping the seething rage from the events that transpired still boiling silently within him. 

When they finally entered the camp, it was almost empty, save for a few warriors who wasn’t out scouting the woods, guarding it. Iorveth left Ciaran at the main part of the camp and wandered off to his hideout. After the usual ritual of throwing a dozing nekker to the arachas, Iorveth entered his cave.  
Tir sat with Signe by the fire, playing her flute and immediately Signe’s eyes met Iorveth’s. She rose up quickly and started walking with determined steps towards him. Tir looked up from her flute and rose, but stayed by the fire as Signe came up to him. She looked annoyed and he could understand that, but he didn’t rightly care just then and there. 

“Where have you been?” Signe snarled as she stopped just before him, she pushed his chest hard, making him take a step back.  
Immediately, Tir dropped her flute and grabbed Signe from behind, holding her back.  
Iorveth looked down on Signe, she looked to be all right. Tir had looked after her well, it seemed, but, she was angry. Perhaps 'furious' was a better word to describe her feelings just then, Iorveth supposed.  
“Let go of me!” she seethed through her teeth, looking back over her shoulder at Tir, jerking her arms to get lose from Tir’s grip. Iorveth nodded at Tir, who released Signe immediately and once free from Tir’s restraining grip, Signe flew at Iorveth again, pounding his chest. “What the fuck have you done? Where have you been? How can you just _leave_ me here?”  
Iorveth remained silent, letting her beat on him, punch him and push him. Tir looked confused, like she wanted to stop Signe but Iorveth frowned, turning to walk over to one of his tables, removing his weapons. Signe followed him, still shouting and grabbing at him.  
“Fucking answer me you elven bastard, what the hell’s wrong with you? Lost your fucking voice on that little joy trip of yours?”  
Iorveth sighed, unsheathing his swords and lying them on the table, “Tir, leave us”, he said calmly, not looking back over his shoulder.  
“But-“  
“ _Now_ ”, Iorveth growled and soon, he heard her light steps walk away and out of the cave, leaving him alone with the dh’oine still raging at his side. 

“Answer me!” Signe pushed at him again and then, Iorveth turned and looked straight at her. Her blue hues were wild with hot fury and her curly dark hair tousled, some straw sticking out from it. Iorveth noticed he liked it even better when it covered her ears, made her look less like a dh’oine and more like… Like his kind.  
Iorveth reached out, gently pulling her hair back behind her ear – the action making Signe fall silent for a moment, just looking at him. Her face was blushing with angry heat, making her look rosy-cheeked and healthy, with her milky unmarred skin and those shining blue eyes staring straight into his lone green one. He rounded the tip of her ear with his fingers, gently touching it, before a sneer sounded from his lips.  
“I’ll have you escorted back to your hut, dh’oine”, Iorveth said in a deep voice as he turned around and stalked over to his makeshift bed. He started undressing whilst walking and Signe stood for a moment, looking at him. 

“What?” she said, “Just like that?”  
“Yes”, Iorveth conceded, “Just like that”  
“Then what was the point of this? Of keeping me here?”  
“Protection”, Iorveth punctuated the word calmly.  
“From _what_!?” Signe strode over to him, pulling him back by his arm and forcing him to face her.  
Iorveth smirked with disgust, untying the knots holding his robe together, as he looked at her, “From your own people”  
“My _own_ people? What is wrong with you, Iorveth?!”  
“ _Wrong with me_?” he snarled, grabbing her throat in a tight grip, choking her with his lean strong fingers, like long spider’s legs clutching marble. He leaned down, piercing her eyes with his, his upper lip drawn back in a disgusted grimace, “What’s wrong is what your people are doing to this world, dh’oine. Sooner or later, all the humans will kill off all the Aen Seidhe, all dwarves and gnomes. Then they’ll start murdering one another. Your _kind_ knows no other way. It’s in your genes. You’ll keep killing each other until only _one_ remains, the strongest among you. A thousand years from now, a dim-witted _human barbarian_ will climb to the top of a pile of bones, sit down and proclaim ‘ _I win_ ’”  
Iorveth released her throat with a push, snarling a sound of disgust as he looked down at her, his hands hanging to his sides. 

Signe stood there, mouth slightly ajar, quiet.

*

“A thousand years from now, a dim-witted, _human barbarian_ -”, his tongue curled on the r’s while speaking in a harsh tone so filled with hatred, Signe could only stare at him, jaw dropped as she forgot to try and breathe through his strong grasp on her throat, forcing her to look into his emerald eye, burning with disgust as he stared down on her, like a demon of burning embers towering over her. “-will climb to the top of a pile of bones, sit down and proclaim ‘ _I win_ ’”

He released her harshly, making her fall back a few steps like a ragdoll. She stared at him, wordlessly – her anger stilled, gone. The rage she felt for being left alone, forced to stay put, taken over by a complete shock from his words. His chest was rising and falling, up and down as he just stood there with his robe half opened, filthy with blood and other foul-smelling things ground into the fabric. His scar making him look even more wicked, along with that crazed stare and disgusted snarl. 

After a long silence, of only standing there, staring at each other, Signe took a deep breath, “You hate humans”, she stared at him. “You-“  
“Yes”, Iorveth said, plainly.  
“So why keep me here, why protect me?”  
“I don’t know”, he said, still breathing heavily, still staring at her.  
Signe shook her head, grasping her throat where his hand had been just moments, ago, “You want to kill me, but you can’t. Can you?” Iorveth looked at her as she brought her hand up to touch the tip of her ear, were his fingers had touched her. “It’s this, isn’t it? The shape of my ears. The sole difference in the shape, of _ears_ ”  
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Iorveth snarled, gesticulating harshly, “A whole ideology based on the shape of ones ears, what do you take me for? It’s about this whole world, the societies we exist in. Humans came here and instead of embracing _our_ culture, the already existing and thriving Aen Seidhe culture, they came, crushed it – smothered it with their filth and their degenerate customs. You breed like rats, living expendable lives caring only for your own wealth and happiness, whilst the world, the nature around you dies. Everything you _humans_ do, results in the death of those around you and yourself. Everything your people touch, turns to ash” 

Signe searched his face, taking a step towards him, “I-I just don’t understand, why protect me, Iorveth? If you hate, as you say, _my kind_ , for reasons that you hold for absolute truth, then why keep me here, to protect me?”  
Iorveth looked down, breaking their eye contact and sighed deeply. Then he strode over to her, grabbed her round the neck and clashed his lips against hers.  
For a moment, confusion drenched Signe, his teeth clashing with her lips hurt her, but his kiss was frantic and it made her stomach jump, heat rising from within her in a rush she’d never experienced before. She pushed him away, breaking the kiss and Iorveth, breathing heavily, stood there, his hand still gently curled around her neck. She looked up at him, face as expressionless as his for a moment, before she reached up, circling her arms around his neck from standing on her toes, and kissed him back.  
He responded in an instant, devouring her lips with his. She didn’t care if he smelled, she ignored the metallic taste of blood on his lips as his tongue swirled around hers, licking into her mouth with an almost desperate force. His other arm circled her waist and pushed her against him, his heat taking her over completely.  
Her fingertips stroked his neck, feeling the little of his hair that peaked out from under his bandana. It was soft as silk. She dragged her hands down around his neck, touching his almost feverish skin, her fingertips feeling the slight difference in skin-texture where his tattoo started and she followed it down over his chest. She moaned into his mouth and he answered by holding her even tighter against him, lifting her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clenching his whole body with hers. 

Signe released Iorveth lips for a moment of air, and they both panted, looking at each other. Signe traced the side of his face still visible, searching his eye. “Tell me”, she said.  
Iorveth frowned, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t”, he murmured. “I’ve-“, he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers, “There’s something about you. You’re a dh’oine, but still not quite as the others. I can’t put my finger on it, and it pains me. It pains me, that I fucking _care_ ”  
Signe slid down from him, as Iorveth released his hold on her, keeping her up around his waist. “You’re not supposed to like me”, Signe looked up at him.  
Iorveth glanced down on her, then closed his eye, sighing deeply, his upper lip twitching.  
“We don’t get to chose who we like”, Signe whispered, stroking the part of his chest bared from his untied robe. “It just happens”  
“There’s no future in this”, Iorveth finally said and looked away. “And even if it were, it’s immoral”  
“Why do you say that?” Signe reached up and forced his head to face hers.  
“Do you know who I am, dh’oine?”  
“I do”

Iorveth chuckled, stepping away from her, “No, you do not. I’ve killed thousands upon thousands of your kind”, his eye pierced her through and through. At his words, Signe felt her stomach drop. “I’ve been alive for close to 160 years, I’ve fought for this cause for over one hundred of those years. How old are you, girl? Twenty? You’re a _child_ ”  
Signe forgot to breathe where she stood. 160 years? How was that even possible? She stared at Iorveth, completely in shock – over his age, over everything he said. “In reality, you’re nothing but a dh’oine whore”, he snarled, “I’ve killed women like you hundreds of times, breaking theirs necks as if they were branches, snipped off, one – by one”, his eye darkened as he looked at her from his side. Signe stared at his profile in the gleaming light of the damp cave. “But”, he said and walked over to her, “What is it about you that’s different, I wonder”, he stood only inches away, searching her. “Tell me dh’oine, why you speak strangely. The first time I met you, you hesitated before every word you spoke. It’s still there. _Where_ are you from?”  
“I-I’ve told you”, Signe stammered, backing away from him, but Iorveth followed her, backing her into the stonewall behind her.  
“No, you’ve told me nothing, Signe”, he said, leaning down over her.  
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I tried to explain”  
“Fucking try me”, Iorveth held his arms on each side of Signe’s head, allowing her no way to escape him.

*


	9. Dimensions and Roses

“Maybe we could sit down, then?” Signe asked, her voice shaking. Iorveth nodded, removing one of his arms from beside her head, gesticulating for her to sit down on one of the stubs by the fire. 

She took a deep breath as she sat down and Iorveth followed her, sitting down on the stub beside her. As she looked down on her hands, she began speaking. Iorveth was watching her, but she didn’t look at him, instead her gaze shifted from her hands to the fire in front of her.   
“I was born in a country called Sweden, in 1922, which makes me twenty-two years old, _not_ twenty. How I got here, I-I don’t rightly know. It was Christmas Eve, a – eh, festival of sorts connected to our religion, Christianity. My husband and I had been at my parent’s house, celebrating, eating, giving each other gifts, as we always do during the festivities of Christmas”, Signe spoke in a silent voice, trembling, now and again. Iorveth remained silent while she talked, listening without interrupting.   
“Late during the evening, we were returning home. We celebrate Christmas during the coldest month of winter, and Sweden’s in the north of Europe. Uh, the continent is called Europe. In my world, we had cars – like a wagon of sorts, with a mechanical engine, pulling the wagon forward or back, you just push a pedal and it runs on its own. I can’t really explain it, it’s too complicated”, her eyebrows knitted together as she shook her head.  
“Either way, we were driving home and the roads were icy. I was half asleep in the passenger seat, but suddenly, John, my husband, hit the breaks – the things that make the car stop – and my head flew straight into the instrument board of the car and then it all became black. I don’t remember much else from it. Then, I woke up here – and you found me” 

“Are you familiar with the Conjunctions of the Spheres?” Iorveth asked her, keeping his eye pinned on her.  
“Yes, Tir mentioned it to me, that there are other dimensions and that’s how the humans came to this world”   
“Exactly. So, the dimension you come from, is it much different from this one?”   
“Hm, you could say that”, Signe thought for a moment. “It’s… Very similar in some aspects, but also very different in others. In the world that I left, there was a war going on, they call it the ‘Second World War’”   
“Where there are humans, there’s always war”, Iorveth murmured, frowning. Signe looked up at him with wet eyes and he huffed, going silent again and turning away his gaze. 

“You asked me why I speak strangely”, Signe said, looking up at him and Iorveth looked back. “This is not my native tongue. In Sweden, the language is called ‘Swedish’, but my father was not from there. He immigrated to Sweden, from another European country called Poland. Strangely enough, their language, Polish, is almost the same as the Common Tongue here in Temeria. That’s why I know it – my father spoke it”   
Iorveth almost snorted, but he supposed it wasn’t as strange as Signe wanted to believe it was. Humans had come from another dimension – perhaps having ended up in several different dimensions and the language remaining with them, through different worlds. 

“I guess there’s no elves or dwarves in your world?” Iorveth had to contain his snarl, clearing his throat and trying to remain calm.   
“No”, Signe shook her head, “And no historical sources to prove there’s ever been any either. Or well, we have dwarves – but not like another race, as here. In my world, it’s just a genetic defect that runs through some individuals”   
“How do you treat these dwarves?” Iorveth frowned, “In your world?”   
“Uh, what do you mean?”   
“You live in a would completely populated by humans, how do you treat those who are not? How do you treat your nature, the animals?”   
“We…”, Signe fell silent for a moment, seemingly thinking deeply. “It differs”, she finally said.   
“On what?” Iorveth pressed.   
“I Sweden, dwarves and humans with… Defects, are castrated or sterilized, so that they can’t have children. There have been reports, from Germany, a neighbouring country to Sweden, that they… Kill. That they kill them. In camps”, she grew pale when she said the last sentence and Iorveth looked at her, noticing her hands trembling.   
“The political party, in Germany – the national socialists, they… It’s been rumoured, or, according to American sources”, her eyes seemed to drift away – Iorveth wanted to ask what ‘American’ was, but stayed quiet, “The have these camps, huge ones, all over Germany and Poland. Where they kill thousands upon thousands – perhaps millions of people. Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, those who oppose them politically like communists” 

Iorveth had no idea what half of what she was saying meant, but tears were now running down her cheeks and he sat there, watching her. Yet again, his reason for hating humans was confirmed further – killing people in camps, on such a massive scale? How did they even do it? What did they do with all the bodies?   
“I’m sorry”, Iorveth said after a while when she had grown quiet, only silent tears running down her cheeks. Iorveth twisted his lips, searching for words to… To do what, soothe her? He didn’t know. She looked pained and her already pale skin looked even paler, but her eyes were becoming red from her tears. “You mentioned a husband”, he said.   
“Yes”, she nodded, “John”   
Iorveth nodded slowly, looking at her. “Were you married for long?”   
Signe shook her head, “No, a few years only. I was nineteen when we married”   
“He’s a good husband?” Iorveth asked, clasping his hands and leaning forward on his thighs, looking away from her.   
Signe frowned, “I would say so. He’s a musician, jazz music”, she smiled slightly, perhaps remembering something, but then her smile wilted, “I don’t know if I should say that he ‘is’ or ‘was’. I don’t even know if he’s alive” 

There was really nothing Iorveth could say to comfort her, no words would be enough. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but just then, it didn’t seem like a good idea. She was grieving. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known anything about her.   
At first, he’d thought her a fat noble lost in the forests, or a prostitute from a finer brothel. Instead, the strange initial thoughts he’d had about her being different, that something was all too strange about her, the small details – had turned out to be true.   
He didn’t really know what to do with all this information or with what he felt about her. Because he _did_ feel, it was obvious. When she had mentioned a husband, something had cut through him like burning fire – jealousy – he realized and wanted to scoff at the feeling. But he knew all too well what it felt like, losing someone you cared for in that way that you cared for a spouse.   
Iorveth had lived a long life, and even though he’d never felt the kind of feelings that Signe sparked in him, it didn’t mean that he’d never been in love, or had loved. He’d once had children and a wife, but it was so long ago, he could hardly remember it now. It was a wound in his very soul that he just didn’t poke at, ever. 

Iorveth reached out, touching her small, almost slightly chubby hands, with his own. His touch made her jump slightly, as she’d regressed into her own thoughts, but her little cold fingers soon wrapped around his, holding onto him as they sat in continued silence for quite some time.

*

Iorveth let go of her hand and walked over to a chest he kept under one of the tables in the cave, opening it and rooting around for a bit, before he brought up a bottle and walked back to her, crouching down beside her. He opened the bottle and aimed it to her, lightly stroking her thigh.  
“There’s nothing I can say or really do, to bring you back to your world, dh’oine”, he said, “But through the years, I’ve learned that vodka has many good qualities, among them, are dulling out pain of all kinds”  
Signe looked at him for a short moment, before taking the bottle and drinking from it. The harsh, strong spirit made her throat burn, but within a few moments, her body felt warm and the acute pain dulled slightly. She took another swig, before Iorveth took the bottle from her, drinking from it himself, before he rose again and walked back to the table, putting the bottle there.  
“Have you seen an elven bath before?” he said over his shoulder and Signe looked up at him. “They’re beautiful, almost mystical. A pinnacle of what’s left of my kind's societies”  
“Do they still work? The baths?” Signe asked, wiping her eyes and racking her fingers through her hair.  
“Yes”, Iorveth nodded. “It seems I’m in a desperate need of a bath. The people in Flotsam weren’t too happy to see me, as you can probably smell”  
Signe snorted quietly, shaking her head, “What did they do?”  
“They threw rotten food at me, amongst… other things”, he said with a smirk and Signe looked at him with a shy smile on her lips.  
“Why did they do that?”  
“I was paraded through the town, of course. The vatt’ghern pretending to have caught me and then wanting to hand me over to the authorities”

Signe shook her head, “Well, go have your bath, elf”   
“You don’t want to come with me?” Iorveth cocked his eyebrow, “I promise it’s beautiful”   
“But we’ll-“ Signe hesitated, “I’ve only been naked in front of my husband”, she looked back at him with hesitation.   
“Ah, human primness”, Iorveth rolled his eye, “If it bothers you that much, I promise to look away”   
“I’m not bathing. You are”, Signe crossed her arms over her chest, “I see what you are trying to do, Iorveth”   
Iorveth shrugged, “As you wish. I’ll let you watch me undress as much as you’d please”, he smirked. “Come on then, dh’oine” 

 

Iorveth walked over to her and reached out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her out of the cave.   
Eventually, they ended up outside another cave, above it, was a lush garden, filled with roses and colourful flowers, old statues, from the little she could see. Iorveth walked into the cave and through ruined paths and different rooms, Signe followed him, until they ended up in a small lit up room. It was steaming and on the walls, roses still grew wildly, climbing up over the old and mossy stones. The design of the stones was very gothic-like, almost like something belonging in a church. It was beautiful.   
Iorveth looked at her with a gaze that silently said ‘I told you so, didn’t I?’ and Signe smiled as she crouched down to touch the water.   
“It’s actually warm”, she said.   
Iorveth chuckled as he shrugged the robe off of his shoulders. “Where do you think all the steam is coming from?”   
Signe frowned, “I don’t know, but how?” she looked up at him, her breath getting caught in her throat. Iorveth’s upper body was bare and she could see all of his scars as well as the small trail of dark hair that travelled up from the rim of his trousers to his navel. Other than that, his chest was free of any hair, making him look oh so young. It was difficult, understanding that he was almost 160 years old. Looking at him, she’d believe him to be at most, thirty-five, if even that. It was when you looked into his eye, that you understood that he wasn’t a young man, by any means.   
He was slimmer than she’d thought, his armour and clothes making him look broader than he actually was, but he was still heavily muscled and his shoulders broad. Broader than many of the other elves she’d seen so far. He caught her eyes and his upper lip curled into something like a vague smile. 

“It’s ancient elven magic”, Iorveth said as he began to untie his leather trousers and Signe immediately looked away, feeling herself blush feverishly. “Bloede d’yaebl, dh’oine, you really are a prude, aren’t you?”   
“I-“, Signe shook her head, “I’m not used to seeing naked men this… Causally”   
“You’ve lived with a man, didn’t you see him naked?” It sounded like he chuckled, the bastard, and in the corner of her eye, she could see him pull down his trousers, pulling them off of his ankles and then she heard him gently enter the bath. He let a groan out as he sunk down into the hot water.   
“Yes”, she said, clenching her teeth.   
“So? If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all”, Iorveth shrugged were he sat in the bath with his back to her, leaning against the edge.   
Signe laughed, “I can assure you, you look nothing like John”   
“Oh?” Iorveth looked at her from over his shoulder, “I take that’s a bad thing, then?”   
Signe frowned, “I didn’t mean it like that… I-It’s just, different” 

Iorveth nodded, lowering himself further. “Come on, dh’oine, get in the bath. I promise I’ll close my eye. You can sit on the other side”, he said and pointed to the edge across from him, “If it makes you feel better”   
Signe hesitated, but still – a warm bath? She hadn’t had one of those since… Since before she ended up here, in this world.   
After a few moments, she rose from where she sat and Iorveth smirked, looking at her.   
“Oh stop looking so goddamned satisfied with yourself”, Signe snarled as she shrugged off her coat, “And close your eye, you foul-mouthed bastard” 

Iorveth closed his eye and leaned his head back.

“You can open your eye now”, Signe said, almost melting into the thick warmth of the water surrounding her. This was so worth it, if anything could cheer her up and take her mind off of her situation, a bath like this definitely could.   
“What did I tell you?” Iorveth said, smirking and biting his lower lip. Signe smiled as she nodded, feeling blissfull. 

They sat like that for a while, Signe just laying back and sighing as she enjoyed the warmth. Iorveth kept his word and stayed were he was, soaking in the water as well. The silence was lovely, considering all the screaming they had done in the last two days. It seemed like the water washed away her worries, all her anxiety and her anger. It was difficult, she was still angry with Iorveth for not allowing her to go home. But at the same time, she found that she enjoyed being close to him. Never the less, she worried about Anezka and felt bad for not pressing the matter of going home further.   
She decided she’d take it up when they were out of the bath, he had said he’d bring her home now that he was back, but she didn’t rightly know if she could trust him to keep that promise. 

“Don’t you need to wash your hair?” Signe asked after a while and Iorveth opened his eye, looking at her.   
“Hm, I suppose I do”, he said, frowning.   
“But?”   
“But, what?” he said.   
“Are you afraid to show me what you look like underneath that piece of cloth?” Signe asked, moving closer to him. She saw his eye widen as she came closer, but he stayed still where he sat, letting her close in on him.   
“Not afraid”, he said, “It’s simply not very…”   
“I want to see what you look like”, Signe said quietly, stopping a foot or so from him. He could see her entire body now, though slightly shielded by the haze of the water – but she could see him as well. His long, muscular legs, slim hips and flat stomach. Scars littered him, some old with silver-like scar tissue, others more recent in an angry crimson shade. 

Iorveth watched her for a moment, before he reached up and untried his bandana, unwrapping it from around his head. What was revealed behind it, wasn’t pretty. Signe could understand why he covered it up, what she couldn’t understand was how he had survived such a wound in the first place. She moved closer to him, straddling him as she sunk down slightly in his lap. He drew in a sharp breath as she did so, watching her carefully as she reached up and touched the scars on the left side of his face. The empty eye socket stared back at her, framed by still deeply crimson flesh, covered by thin skin.   
Once the bandana was off, she could see his hair, it was raven black and straight, longer than she had thought as it fell down over his face. She pulled it back with wetted hands, making it stay back as she traced his features with her thumbs.   
He was beautiful, she thought and she looked into his one eye, seeing something there that she hadn’t seen before. A vulnerability of some kind, something soft, that was hidden so deeply behind all hatred and anger that he carried around with him.   
So many, many years, she thought as she stroked his cheeks, one of her thumbs finding his lower lip. His mouth moved and he kissed her thumb, his hands moving up to hold her waist, stroking her skin.   
He kept his eyes on her face, not looking down at her bared chest and in the water, she hovered slightly above him, not sinking all the way down. It was still far too early. This, for now, Signe thought, was enough. He’d bared himself for her – just as she had for him an hour before. In different ways, yes – but they had both showed some kind of vulnerability to each other. 

“You’re so very beautiful, Iorveth”, Signe said and he leaned forward, catching her lips with his own in a deep kiss.

*


	10. The Last Commander

“So”, Ciaran stretches out on a bedroll on the ground, leaning his head against a large log perfectly placed close to the fire. “Who is this dh’oine you’re all so fidgety about? It’s not like we haven’t had humans in our camp before”, he sighed as he sipped on a mug of spiced wine.  
“Apparently”, Neave drawled, “Iorveth doesn’t want the dh’oine in shackles, but instead let’s her sit in his bed”  
“What”, Tir broke into the conversation, “So you think that just because she’s _allowed_ to sit in his bed, he’s treating her like she’s something special?”  
“Well you told Faen she attacked him, but Iorveth did nothing”, Neave said, his eyes piercing Tir and Tir whipped around, searching for the blonde woman. Faen stood leaned against a tree a few feet behind her and Tir cast her a sour gaze.  
“You’re such a gossip”, Tir seethed and Faen shrugged, making a non-committal face.  
“I’d believe that’s because he doesn’t _have_ to do anything”, Ciaran said in a deep voice, “A dh’oine woman”, he huffed, “You need to stop speculating in things you have no business in”  
“No business?” Neave looked at Ciaran, “He let’s the dh’oine varh’he stay in his fucking hideout”  
“Rhaac apparently was eager to have her”, Faen chuckled from where she stood leaned against the tree.  
“Well he’s a bloede disgusting fuck, isn’t he?” Tir made a disgusted face.  
“Where’s that bastard off to, anyway?” Ciaran asked.  
“Sent away, Iorveth didn’t like him threatening his dh’oine”, Neave rolled his eyes.  
“What’s your deal, Neave?” Ciaran asked, sitting up and locking his eyes with Neave’s.  
“What?” Neave scowled.  
“You’re acting like a sour little varh’he, haven’t gotten your man-loving prick sucked in a while?” Ciaran said in a mocking tone, “You’re whining more than a whore in a brothel”  
“Fuck off”, Neave threw a mug at Ciaran, snarling. 

Ciaran chuckled, leaning back down against the log. “So Rhaac threatened this dh’oine Iorveth is keeping with him?”  
“What did he say to her, Faen?” Tir looked back over her shoulder. The blonde woman pushed herself away from the tree and walked over to the small gathering around the fire and sat down beside Tir.  
“He said he wanted to fuck her, dead or alive, you know that”, Faen said and Ciaran rolled his eyes.  
“Though”, Tir broke in, “The best part was that when Neave, Faen and Rhaac had brought her here and Iorveth came, the dh’oine just looked up at Iorveth and calmly said ‘That one’ and pointed at Rhaac, ‘Said he wanted to rape me, alive or dead. Did you know you had those kind of deviants?’” Tir laughed, “And then, you could _see_ Iorveth practically boil over and before anyone fucking knew it, he’d gone over to Rhaac and punched the fucker straight in the face”  
Ciaran and Faen laughed with Tir, but Neave sourly looked down on his hands, ignoring the others.  
“He’s always been a right disgusting bollock that one”, Ciaran nodded with a shrug, “He should know how Iorveth feels about rape… Eh, he got what he deserved. If he weren’t such a good archer, I’d fucking kill him myself for half the things he says”  
“Yeah, it was fun watching him fall on his arse, though”, Tir smiled, still chuckling.  
Faen nodded, “Fuck, angering Iorveth, you don’t want to do that”, she said with widened eyes. 

“So, to Vergen?” Faen said, “Is it because of that vatt’ghern?”  
“The Gwynbleidd?” Tir asked.  
“Yes”, Ciaran nodded, “Geralt, I believe his name was. Apparently, he’s a friend of that dwarf… What’s his name? Coltan? Doltan?”  
“Zoltan”, Neave said under his breath.  
“Ah, always so attentive”, Ciaran drawled with an amused tone, peering at Neave.  
“ _Shut up_ ”, Neave snarled as he rose and stalked away.  
“Aw, so sensitive!” Ciaran laughed, watching the young man angrily walk off, Tir and Faen sniggering. “Oh, come back Neave!” Ciaran shouted after him, “I was only fucking with you”  
“He wishes”, Faen laughed and Ciaran wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

*

The struggle of trying to put on tight leather trousers while still being wet after a steamy bath, was another thing Signe never had imagined she would have to suffer through before she landed in this _dimension_ or whatever one would call it. It was a right pain in the arse, and she swore as she tried to pull the thick leather up over her hips.  
“Just say the word, dh’oine”, Iorveth said in an amused tone from behind her.  
“Are you watching me dress?” Signe asked in an exasperated voice, turning slightly to see Iorveth standing with his back to her, wrapping his bandana around his still wet hair and face.  
“Obviously not”, he said with a serious tone. “But I would be able to hear your huffing from a mile away”  
She could hear his cheeky smirk, more than see it and she groaned, “I fucking hate these clothes. Don’t you have towels?”  
“Not here”, he shrugged. “Are you decent?”  
“No”, she seethed, pulling the trousers up further. Now she was beginning to become afraid she’d rupture them and she let out a few curses in Swedish before she finally got them up around her waist. A sigh of relief later and Iorveth turned to her, still bare from his hips and up, and Signe, already hot from her battle with the trousers and the bath itself, realised she actually could blush even more.  
Iorveth raked his fingers through her hair and leaned down and kissed her once more and Signe swallowed his kisses greedily, wrapping her hands around his bare waist, her fingertips feeling the scars on his almost velvety skin.

Elves, she noticed, had an almost amazing skin-texture. Or, it was just Iorveth. Where human men had slightly rougher skin and a lot more hair, elves, strangely enough where almost hairless, except for a little here and there. None of the males had any facial hair, and looking at Iorveth, she almost felt ashamed for her own bodily hair. She knew that women in America shaved their armpits and legs, and so she had started doing it as well – as a rouse for John. He’d thought it strange, but somewhat exotic and eventually she got used to it. Here, shaving was slightly more difficult, therefore, her legs had turned hairy, as well as her armpits – and being faced with Iorveth’s body, almost completely devoid of hair, had her feeling insecure.  
Why would he even choose to be with her? The elven females she’d seen, where so beautiful it almost hurt and if the males were this hairless, the women must be as well. Signe knew that she wasn’t ugly, by human standards, at least. But to even begin to compare to elven standards? The thought made her uncertain and slightly… Scared.  
But the way Iorveth kissed her, it seemed he didn’t mind. She’d felt his reaction to her, his erection as she straddled him and even now, as she pressed against him, she felt him grow hard against her. She took that as a good sign and melted into his kisses, giving back as much as he gave her and when he moved from her lips to her jawline and worked his lips down her neck, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her.  
Her knees felt weak and she had to grab onto his arms to steady herself. 

_Anezka_.  
Goddamn it, Signe thought as Iorveth’s lips kissed and nipped her skin and she felt an unease grow in her stomach, “Iorv-ah-Iorveth”, she whispered. When he didn’t stop, she pushed at him, “Iorveth!”  
He looked up from her neck, with a slight heat over his visible cheekbone.  
“You need to take me home, now”, she said, “I’m worried about Anezka”  
“The witch?” he asked and let go of her, taking a step back.  
Signe nodded, “I’ve been gone for two days, she must be worried sick”  
Iorveth sighed, “It’s not safe there”, he shook his head.  
“I don’t care”, Signe said, “I need to know she’s alright. That nothing’s happened. And I can’t stand the thought of her worrying about me. It’s not fair. And…”  
“What?” the snarl was back on his face and his eye had hardened again.  
“I can’t stay here”, she said and Iorveth clenched his fists, looking away.  
“I said I’d take you back”, he said with a tight jaw, “Get the rest of your clothes, dh’oine”

 

Iorveth led her through the forest, ducking under low-hanging branches, taking quick steps over logs covered in moss, constantly with a vigilant eye on everything around him. Signe didn’t doubt for a moment that he heard everything going on around him, as they walked silently shielded by leaves and bushes.  
When they were nearing the edge of the wood, Iorveth reached his arm back and stopped Signe from moving, “Voe’rle”, he whispered.  
“Huh?” Signe hissed from behind him.  
“Stop”, he repeated in Polish, reaching for the hilt of his sword as he took few careful steps forward, peeking under a blow branch. He looked over his shoulder at her, his eye cold with burning fury and Signe held her breath. “Stay here, dh’oine. I mean it”  
Signe nodded and watched Iorveth sneak further ahead, carefully ducking under the branch and disappearing behind it. 

Soon, she heard footsteps and then, a growl, followed by the clashing of metal and another deep growl. She snuck forward, carefully and peeked out from under the branch and her heart caught in her throat as she saw the blue-striped commander and Iorveth, fighting.  
Iorveth swung at Vernon with his curved swords, almost dancing around – while Vernon’s tactic seemed to be more straight on. When Vernon attacked Iorveth with brute force, Iorveth simply swirled around, making Vernon miss him with a hairsbreadth, before Iorveth turned around and started hacking his sword into Vernon’s shoulder. Vernon screamed and Iorveth pushed him down with a kick, making him fall to the ground. Then Iorveth flew on his body and Vernon was able to turn, facing Iorveth as he repeatedly beat Vernon with the hilt of his sword. He was going to kill him, Signe thought and felt herself panic. She’d been completely frozen where she stood, ducking under the branch – feeling like a deer caught in headlights at the inhuman violence before her.  
“Stop!” she shouted, running out from under the branch and Iorveth whipped around, staring at her. His face was spattered with blood as he pointed his sword at her.  
“I told you to stay back, dh’oine!” he roared and Signe stopped in her tracks, holding her hands up. She heard Vernon moan were he lay underneath Iorveth’s weight as he straddled him. 

“The Temerian Special Forces”, Iorveth chuckled mockingly, “Created by Foltest to combat the Scoia’tael after the first war with Nilfgaard. Veterans, professionals, the best of the best. This is the end, Roche”, Iorveth snarled. “See these emblems? Temerian lilies – that’s all I lacked”, he continued, pulling out the knife he had on his chest. He used the knife to cut off the emblem on Vernon’s chest, holding it up and almost in a dramatic way viewing it. “I’ve defeated the commanders of all the special forces in the North. Now, I shall unite the Scoia’tael…”  
“Finish what you started”, Vernon groaned from where he lay on the ground, bleeding and groaning. He tried to push Iorveth off of him, by rising slightly from the ground, that’s when his eyes fell on Signe and she backed away further.  
Iorveth, of course, noticed his eyes widen at the sight of her and he snorted darkly, looking back down on Vernon.  
“You”, Vernon groaned, staring at Signe, “I recognize you”  
“Of course you do”, Iorveth snarled and backhanded Vernon and he fell back down against the ground with a pained groan, “Now focus, you dh’oine bastard”, Iorveth gripped his head, holding him down and leaning over him. “I shan’t kill you, Roche. We Aen Seidhe never kill the last specimens of dying breeds. Live on and remember who defeated you, remember he can do so again”  
Iorveth rose and stood over Vernon, tucking the emblem into a small pouch hanging from his hip. “Va fail, Vernon Roche”, Iorveth said as he turned and walked back to Signe, grabbing her harshly by her arm and dragging her along with him. She looked back over her shoulder at Vernon, who lay groaning amongst the leaves.  
“You’re making a mistake, Iorveth!”, Vernon’s cracked and pained voice shouted after them, “I will find you!” 

“Bloede d’yaebl!”, Iorveth said as they quickly walked through the forest, in the opposite direction of where they were originally heading. Iorveth still held Signe in a tight grip, pulling her with him as he quickly strode through the branches and leaves hanging low.  
“Where are we going?” Signe asked, trying to pull herself free, “We’re going in the wrong direction”  
Iorveth whipped around, stopping her and clasping her shoulder. He had blood spattered not only on his face, but his hands and the front of his robe and he stared at her as he sighed in frustration, “Don’t you understand, Signe?” he said. “Roche knows you’re with me, with the Scoia’tael. You can’t fucking go back there, he’ll arrest you first thing”  
“But he’s not there now”, Signe protested, “He’s lying there!”, she pointed back into the clearing where Iorveth had fought Vernon.  
“His men are all around us, here in the woods, dh’oine. They’ve probably already found him and taken him back. What’s the first fucking thing he’ll tell them? That I did that, and that you were with me”  
Signe looked up at him, then she pushed him away, “And now, I can’t fucking go back? I can’t do anything!” her hands flew up in the air, “So now what?! I’ll just go back to that sodding cave with you?”  
Iorveth shook his head, “We’re not going back there”, he said.  
“No?” Signe was breathing hard, staring up at that goddamned elf with anger.  
“We’re going to Aedirn”, Iorveth said, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her up over his shoulder. Signe kicked and punched him, snarling and spitting like a feral cat, but Iorveth ignored her. Eventually, she grew so tired, she simply hung there, spewing insults at him and swearing in Swedish.

*


	11. The Beginning of a Voyage

Signe sat with her legs crossed at the knees and her arms crossed over her chest on a barrel, watching Iorveth as he paced back and forth, twitching. She had noticed he did that a lot, moved about in an almost irregular manner, when thinking or when angry or frustrated.  
He had taken her to a large ship, he called it a barge but to Signe, it didn’t look much like a barge, considering it’s old design. It looked more like a low, finely decorated war-ship than an actual barge, supposedly built for transporting large amounts of anything. There had been a group of elves on the ship and Iorveth had sent a few of them away, back to the camp to get the others and the vatt’ghern, whatever a vatt’ghern was, Signe thought with a sneer. The elves left on the ship, peered at her with suspicious eyes, but said nothing, instead seeming quite tensed by Iorveth pacing back and forth, back and forth. 

“Are you nervous about something, child snatcher?” Signe finally snapped and Iorveth stopped in his tracks with his back to her.  
“What did you say?” he hissed, still turned away from her.  
“You heard me”, Signe said plainly, staring daggers into his back. “You’re the one calling me a child”  
“Not _here_ , dh’oine”, Iorveth hissed and Signe huffed with a snarl, looking over at the group of elves watching the two of them silently. 

Iorveth turned and looked at her, his eye glimmering in the darkness that had surrounded them as they reached the ship, it’s stark emerald shade even more pronounced in the moonlight and for a moment, Signe simply enjoyed looking into that old eye, belonging to a man looking so young.  
He stalked over to her, and before she had time to notice, the back of his hand smacked against her cheek with such force, she almost fell off the barrel and he quickly grabbed her chin in a strong grip, leaning in close to her face.  
“ _Don’t_ fucking talk to me like that in public, forcing me to punish you”, he seethed in a whisper, “I don’t wish to use violence on you, dh’oine. Remember what I told you about not telling anyone? Well, _don’t_ fucking tell _anyone_ ”  
Signe stared at him for a moment, reaching up and touching her cheek, she looked over her shoulder and saw the group of elves, some of them were smiling almost mockingly at her. She looked back to Iorveth and then nodded quickly, frowning with a sour twist on her lips. 

“Iorveth, there’s a small group approaching”, one of the elves shouted and Iorveth turned and looked towards where the barge was boarded.  
He reached for his sword and walked over to the edge, looking out into the forest and soon, a large white-haired man appeared, holding his hand up as he came closer. With him, he had a dwarf and another human man. The human man was much shorter than the white-haired one and dressed in purple and red, his jacket slightly ajar, showing off his chest-hair. Signe cringed. She thought it strange, men dressing up in such…female, colours and, that man just looked, insipid, somehow. As they came closer, Iorveth sheathed his sword, waiting for them to board. 

“Ah, Iorveth, the Woodland Fox”, the dwarf said opening his arms in greeting, but Iorveth stood still, a snarl lifting his upper lip as they closed in on him.  
“What’s your angle in all this, Iorveth?” the white-haired man asked in a raspy voice as he walked up to Iorveth. From what Signe could see, Iorveth frowned and looked at him, his face still twitching.  
“You wouldn’t understand”, Iorveth answered in a deep voice, shaking his head, his chin held high. Signe had noticed he bore himself just like that most of the time. Proud but at the same time, resentful.  
“Hiding in woods, killing berry-pickers, eating roots”, the strange man shrugged, looking accusingly at Iorveth.  
“We live by our own rules”, Iorveth answered, narrowing his eyes. “Doing what’s necessary to attain our goal”  
“What _is_ your goal, really?” the man asked Iorveth, holding his hands out, palms up-turned.  
“What’s it to you Geralt?” Iorveth snarled, “Esseath, vatt’ghern, You tell me to stuff it up my arse”  
“Not everything deserves that fate”, the white-haired man apparently named Geralt spat, “My life now depends on your whim, so I’m curious” 

Iorveth strode up close to the man, glaring into his eyes, “Then listen well”, he said, his voice almost going horse for a moment and Signe narrowed her eyes, listening as well. “The two dead kings were whoresons who damned their own children to stay in power. But in the East, there’s someone truly deserving of a crown”  
“So the assassin you hired turned out to be a traitor”, Geralt almost drawled, cocking his eyebrow at Iorveth in an unpleasant manner.  
“So he did”, Iorveth seethed, narrowing his eyes. “Yet, he proved nobody’s untouchable”  
“I have to ask”, Geralt said, “Why did you want Foltest dead?” Who’s Foltest? Signe wondered to herself as she listened on the conversation.  
Iorveth chuckled, “He might have appeared charming, but in reality, he allowed the Elder Races in Temeria to be oppressed. He was like all dh’oine, but his death has more significance”  
“Letho”, Geralt said as he looked down, his glowing eyes a strange yellow hue and in them, Signe thought she hinted a slight distress, “Said your time was running out. But I need to get to Triss. We need to sail”  
“We’re waiting for the last of my warriors to joins us”, Iorveth gave him a tight nod, “They’re on their way, Gwynbleidd” 

Iorveth turned and walked toward Signe, he grabbed her arm and threw the door to the lower deck open, pushing her inside and following without saying a word. They walked downstairs in silence, Iorveth steering her to the left and in through another door.  
“Iorveth”, Signe whispered and he looked at her, his fingers pressing into her arm and when the door closed behind them, he stopped and Signe turned towards him. “You need to tell me what’s going on here”  
“There’s all too much to explain it in terms you’d understand, en’ca minne”, he spoke silently, reaching up and gently touching the chin he’d struck only minutes ago.  
“Entcka minn?” Signe looked at him with query eyes.  
Iorveth twitched slightly, probably at her pronunciation, “It’s Elder Speech, _my_ native tongue. It means ‘little dove’”  
Signe smiled slightly, “That’s sweet, you know”  
Iorveth looked away, frowning. “Perhaps” 

“Who’s that man up there?” Signe took a step closer, resting her hands on his chest and Iorveth turned his head back to look at her, his hand reaching up and touching her hair gently.  
“The vatt’ghern?”  
“I don’t even know what that means”, Signe shook her head slowly.  
“Witcher”, Iorveth said, “He’s a monster hunter, but he’s gotten himself involved in this war and it seems him and I need each other, at this point. Things, have taken a turn, which has put me in a position of owing him a debt”  
“How?”  
“I had a traitor kill a dh’oine king, Foltest. Geralt, the vatt’ghern, protected the king and the traitor slew him. Then, Geralt and that… That dwarf”, Iorveth sighed, “They came to warn me. Ciaran, my second in command had sent them. We went to confront the traitor Kingslayer, Letho, but Roche lay in wait and attacked. A fight broke out, I pursued Roche whilst Geralt took on Letho, but Letho escaped and Roche, he…”  
“When was this?”  
“A month past”, Iorveth looked more serious than he usually did, and he certainly looked very serious most of the time and Signe frowned, shaking her head. “That’s when _you_ saved that whoreson bastard, dragging him into your hut”  
“I see”, Signe said curtly. “But what does this have to do with everything?”  
“Letho took off with Geralt’s lover, Triss Merigold, a daerienn”  
“A what? Could you speak Polish, please?”  
“What?” Iorveth’s brows knitted in confusion.  
“Common”, Signe rolled her eyes.  
“She’s a sorceress”  
“Really?” Signe said with a sarcastic tone. “That’s a lot of bullshit, that magic nonsense”  
“Why do you say that? You were with me in the baths, weren’t you?”  
“Well”, Signe said and took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, “Those baths could be explained by heat rising from the burning heat deep down underground at the earth’s innermost depth pressing up through cracks in the earth’s crust. It’s not magic Iorveth, it’s science”  
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say, dh’oine. Magic may not exist in the world you came from, but here – it does exist, I assure you of that”, Iorveth said quietly but with a harshness to his words.

“Anyway”, Signe sighed and turned back around, “You killed a king? Because he treated other races poorly?”  
“Yes”, Iorveth twitched slightly.  
“You’re a murderer”, she frowned, looking away from him for a moment, before turning her eyes to him again. “You’ve told me you’ve killed thousands of my kind, hundreds of women just like me”  
“I have”, Iorveth frowned as well, looking down on her.  
“I came from a world, where the German’s allegedly has committed mass-murder. Still, I find myself in the claws of one, here. It makes me nauseous”, she seethed, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. “Do you realize you’ve kidnapped me?”  
“Yes”, he stood unmoving, only looking at her.  
“Yet you call me ‘little dove’, you kiss me and I _know_ you want me, even though you can’t stand my kind. You beat me, just moment’s ago, to silence me in front of your people”  
Iorveth stood silent and Signe took a step closer, “I should fucking castrate you, you son of a whore”, she seethed, staring into his eyes. “You’re nothing more than a hate-filled, resentful and narcissistic terrorist” 

Iorveth twisted his lips, “What do you want me to say, dh’oine?”  
Signe shook her head. She was lost, split and thrown into something she couldn’t comprehend, a world so like her own in the worst kind of way – but yet so different from it in every single aspect. Who even was this man standing before her? She’d never thought a person could be so complex and filled with dualistic and straggling notions. The worst part, however, was that she just couldn’t bring herself to despise him like she knew she should.  
She _knew_ she shouldn’t feel like she did for someone like _him_. He was the complete opposite of John. John had been kind, fun-loving but still with a strong sense of ethics – a thinker who expressed himself mainly through his music. He’d been the artistic sort, an elegant and handsome man who did everything to sway her off of her feet. 

Iorveth, on the other hand, he treated her like dirt.  
But at the same time, he was eager, almost too eager, to protect her and keep her close to his side. She understood his dual feelings, and she could even at some level, begin to understand the hate he felt towards humans. She’d only seen a small part of how this world was, but the more she saw of it, she could sense herself sympathize with him and his cause. Even though it didn't nearly justify the actions of his Scoia'tael towards humans. 

She had been in love with John, truly and it had been wonderful. But this almost primal, electric feeling she got in her body when she was near Iorveth, she’d never felt that before. It felt as if she really, deeply inside herself, didn’t want to be without Iorveth. She wanted him close, she wanted him to keep her close. Curl his fingers into her hair and _touch_ her, just so that she could feel his heat connecting to the heat she’d felt inside her since she’d first met him.  
As she looked up into his single eye, she imagined herself without him – coming back to her own world and back to John. An ache shot through her and her breath hitched as she could feel her tear duct fill with wetness. 

She punched him, hard. He stood still, his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he looked at her, not moving a muscle as she struck him again. “Fuck you, Iorveth”, she spat, pushing him and he fell back slightly. “I _hate_ what you do to me, how you make me feel”, she grabbed the front of his robe, almost hanging on to him, breathing deeply in, and out.  
“I don’t want you to say anything”, she said after a moment’s silence, shaking her head against his chest, “I…”, she sighed, clutching his robe, “I _need_ you to fuck me” 

Iorveth took her cheeks into his hands without a second’s doubt and his lips clashed against hers, their teeth clashing as they both opened their mouths to each other, their lips moving frantically, nipping and sucking. Tongues swirling and tasting, drinking in everything they could possibly give. Signe moaned silently and Iorveth lifted her up from under her arse and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he crashed her into the wall behind her.  
She pulled his bandana off in one tug and his hair fell out, covering his face and she pulled it back, and he groaned, pressing himself against her – pushing her harder into the wooden wall behind her. Her hands started working up the knots and clutches holding his patched robe and armour to his body, and piece by piece, they opened and started falling off. Iorveth let her down as he released her lips, leaning down to trail kisses down her neck and she felt his hot breath against her skin. It made her skin prickle. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, she shivered and moaned, reaching to somehow get hit kilt off. Eventually, Iorveth had to intervene and untied it from his hips, letting it fall to the ground, leaving him in an open robe and greenish leather trousers. She looked down and saw them straining at his crotch, when she looked up, his flustered face met her, the left side just as hollow as the last time she’d seen it. But she didn’t mind, she’d never mind – simply because it was _him_. 

His nimble fingers quickly made her coat fall to the floor and soon, he was untying the laces holding her shift together, then easily snatching off the simple breast band, releasing her breasts to the cool air around them. She undid his trousers and his lips met hers again, giving her heated deep kisses, drowning her with him completely and she felt her knees go weak as that hot ache burned through her lower body, aching its way throughout her whole being.  
“I need to get there goddamned trousers off”, she breathed with an annoyed voice, having broken the kiss. Iorveth smirked and undid the laces for her, pulling them down and Signe, with less grace than she’d ever admit to, eventually got both the boots and trousers off of her ankles. 

Iorveth was back on her in moments, lifting her up again, kissing her neck and pressing against her. He groaned as he ground his crotch against hers and she could feel her wetness smear against his trousers as he did so. She moaned and he reached down, dragging a finger between her folds and Signe’s breath hitched.  
He started circling her swollen nub, smearing out her wetness even further and she had to kiss him to contain her needy whines when he pushed two lithe fingers inside her, grinding the palm of his hand against her. His other hand squeezed the top of her thigh, holding her up and then he caught her lips in a sloppy kiss, biting her lower lip. It stung, but it sent electric-like waves through her and her head fell back against the wall.  
“Iorveth, please”, she moaned in a desperate breath, “I need to feel you”  
He chuckled silently and she could feel his chest vibrating. He pulled himself out from his trousers and Signe held on to his shoulders as he pushed inside her, holding his shallow breath for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together and his jaw tightened when he sheathed himself completely in her wet warmth. He was large, larger than she'd initially thought and him entering her stung, but Signe felt her lips hang open in a moan and she looked directly into his eye and he looked back, his eye dimmed with arousal and heat as they both now panted in unison. 

She brought her hands up to grasp his face, stroking his cheekbones, then eyebrows, pulling his hair out from his face again. Then, he started moving and everything inside Signe reacted to the feeling of him pushing in and out of her. Her whole body relaxed completely and she felt his muscles tense as he had to hold onto her tighter, her leg's grip around his waist faltering as she fell back against the wall with a moan leaking out from between her lips.  
Iorveth curled a hand behind her neck, steadying her head as he pushed inside her more violently. He changed before her, looking almost feral as he fucked her deeply, with hard thrusts. Signe reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, grinding herself against him. She started to feel the build-up of an orgasm and she leaned forward, kissing Iorveth’s neck as one of her hands grabbed a hold of the hair hanging from the back of his head. She kissed his tattoo, the tattoo that reached down from his neck, over his shoulder and down on his chest, arm and back. A tree, it’s branches spreading out like hundreds of small roads, vessels bringing life, on his skin. Thousands of small leaves decorated it, like inhabitants connected by the life the tree gave to all of them, feeding them through its vessels. 

Her orgasm hit her with force and she had to press her lips against Iorveth to silence herself, her hand fisting in his hair, nails raking at his scalp as his hard and deep thrusts became more and more erratic, pushing her through her orgasm. She clenched around him, feeling all of him so deeply inside her, penetrating her whole being with his own. Then, when her orgasm faded and she started to feel oversensitive, his muscles tightened and he let go of her lips. His eye watching her as his eyebrows drew together, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, is perky lips wet with saliva and beautifully swollen from kissing.  
She felt him pulsate inside her as he pushed in two more times, his hands gripping her tightly as he groaned silently. Then, he stilled, just breathing deeply, catching his breath. 

Signe raked his hair gently through her fingers. His hairline and forehead heated and damp with sweat and his cheekbones blushing from exasperation. He looked gorgeous, his straight raven hair falling back, just touching his shoulders and she pulled a few loose shafts of hair behind his pointed ear.  
Signe sighed deeply and he leaned in and gave her a warm, soft kiss that lingered, before he carefully withdrew from her, setting her down on the floor again. 

Then, a quick knock on the door and the sound of the door's handle moving had Iorveth’s head whipped around as the door behind them opened.

*


	12. A Chatty Flower

“Iorv-“, the male voice stopped in the middle of the name, becoming silent at the view that met him behind the door.   
That dh’oine whore stood leaned back against the wall, naked aside from her opened shift hanging loosely from her shoulders. Her pale, almost white skin flushed in a deep pink, almost crimson over her chest, her heavy breasts bared, as she heaved deeply. Her dark blue gaze quickly caught his and she stared at him with a strange expression. Surprise dimmed from relaxation and her crimson lips were hanging slightly ajar from the heavy breathing. Iorveth stood in front of her, with his back turned to the door where the elf stood. His upper body bared and his trousers hanging from his hips. He didn’t wear his bandana and his dark hair was tousled, just touching his shoulders as they moved up and down from his breathing. Iorveth shot a glace back over his shoulder and the elf took a step back, “I-I’m sorry”   
Iorveth quickly tucked himself back into his trousers, staring over his shoulder with a snarl of his lips. 

“ _What_?” Iorveth hissed and the male tried to look away, but his eyes were stuck on his commander, half-naked in the presence of that strange, raven-haired dh’oine whore, baring her curvaceous body completely. His eyes travelled down to the equally dark triangle of hair that covered her mound – he’d never seen a human woman naked before and elven women, had little body hair. His cheeks heated slightly at the strangely hidden sex of the dh’oine and he couldn’t help but to watch the slick of semen running down her thighs like drops of rain travelling down glass.   
It was only when Iorveth’s tall body blocked his view of her, that he snapped out of it and took yet another step back, leaving the room. He’s never seen the Scoia’tael commander without his bandana and the hollow left side of his face was haunting as Iorveth looked on him with a murderous expression on his face.   
“I, eh-”, the male reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “The last of our warriors and archers have arrived”, he said. “But what’s-“   
“None of your business, Ele’yas”   
“The dh’oine-”, he said, looking at Iorveth who raked one of his hands through his hair. Ele’yas shook his head and felt himself express disgust on his face. 

He’d just caught _Iorveth_ , his commander, ploughing a dh’oine whore, and it certainly didn’t look like rape or punishment of any kind. Iorveth was far too calm for that. What the fuck was going on?   
“It’s true then”, Ele’yas said, “What Neave said. You’ve allowed that whore into your bed”  
Iorveth towered over him, his expression hauntingly hard and frightening.   
“Neave said that?” Iorveth asked in what seemed to be very controlled anger, chest still heaving.   
“Said he’d found her in your bed”, Ele’yas said.   
“He did, yes”, Iorveth snarled, “But that’s none of your business, either of you”   
“But you-“, Ele’yas tried to protest, seething as he looked up at Iorveth through a disgusted scowl.   
“Who I _fuck_ , is neither of your business. I urge you took keep this to yourself, Ele’yas”, Iorveth threatened him, backing him up against a table outside the room where he’d found them. Suddenly, Iorveth smirked, a deadliness blinding his destroyed features, “You know well what I am capable of”   
Ele’yas stared up at Iorveth for a moment, before nodding and pushing himself away from Iorveth’s incursion, taking the stairs up to the main deck in quick strides.

*

Leaving Signe down below, Iorveth made is way up to the main deck, joining his men and those the vatt’ghern had brought. He was now again in his armour and his bandana covered up his hollow eye socket. He looked around and saw Ele’yas standing leaned against the railing, away from the others, his eyes looking away from Iorveth.  
Iorveth made a quick count of the leaders of each of his smaller scouting- and warrior groups, quickly asserting they were all on board.  
“Unfold the mainsail!” Iorveth roared, gesticulating for those manning the ship to draw up the anchor and fold out the sails.

The ship started moving as soon as the anchor was pulled up and the wind touched the sails. A two day's journey lay ahead of them on this blasted barge and Iorveth sighed as he walked over to the white-haired vatt’ghern.   
“We made it”, the Gwynbleidd said with a scowl, leaning against the railing.   
“This is just the beginning, but you chose the right side and I’m pleased”, Iorveth spoke without a smile, a stern look to his eye.   
“I wish I could be so sure”, Geralt said, looking down over the water, frowning. 

They stood in silence as the barge moved out, following the Pontar River upstream, to the East, towards the dwarven town of Vergen.

*

Signe had dressed quickly. Iorveth had returned to the room where she waited while he spoke to the elf interrupting them, furious and snarling as if he breathed fire. Signe just looked at him, but decided it was for the best not to say anything. This was bad, she understood that much, considering how the Scoia’tael viewed humans. Their commander sleeping with a ‘dh’oine’ as she’d realized that they called humans, was what one would definitely call ‘severely frowned upon’.  
Iorveth had pulled on his clothes and armour, remaining silent, before he told her to remain below deck and then left.

After a few moments, she felt the large ship starting to move. She opened the door out to the main part of the lower deck, clad in her boots, dark brown leather trousers and only her shift tucked into her trousers, her breast band still peaking out between the knots holding the shift together over her chest. She didn’t even care anymore. People dressed in all kinds of ways here, and she was alone down here.   
She looked around, noticing for the first time, the main part of this floor was littered with prisons cells – or so she thought. On the floor inside the cells, hay was spread out and the closer she came to them, looking and searching out of curiosity, she could smell the nauseating reek of old urine. Rats scurried about in the corners and Signe shuddered, instead focusing on the crates and chests that had been brought down. She found a crowbar lying on top of one crate, and began bending the top crate open.   
It was filled with bottles, possibly wine. Signe had tried to learn to read their strange almost Cyrillic writings, but found it all too difficult without any proper help. Instead, she began to try and pry the bottle open, but as always, those goddamned corks was shoved in there so bloody hard, she considered finding a sword cutting the bottleneck like one did with champagne. 

“So you’re the secret Iorveth keeps below the deck”, a male voice chuckled playfully behind her and Signe looked over her shoulder. “Ah, you’ve found the wine stash, good for you little miss. That crate don’t happen to be carrying any vodka, is it?”   
Signe frowned, looking at the man. It was the insipid-looking man in purple and crimson that had snuck down below deck, appearing from out of nowhere behind her.   
“Who are you?” Signe asked, turning around to face him.   
“I, my good lady, am the bard, the poet, the minstrel, Dandelion”, the man wearing a purple-ish, or perhaps crimson, Signe couldn’t really decide upon the exact colour, Robin Hood-like hat said in a suave voice, looking at her with wide, excited eyes. “And my eyes must be deceiving me, but your beauty is beyond words. Your eyes, like… Sapphires, shining in contrast to your milky bosom. I shall have to compose a song telling of it!”   
Signe looked at him with a questioning expression, raising one of her eyebrows.   
“Does Iorveth know you’re down here, Mr Dandelion?” Signe asked, keeping her distance from him as he sat down on a barrel, looking at her with eyes gleaming of fascination.   
“It’s _Lord_ Dandelion, if I may”, he smiled and winked an eye towards her. “Come over here, miss”, he said, “I’ll help you open that bottle, if you promise to share it with me”   
“And why should I do such a thing?” Signe asked, “I don’t know who you are”   
“Oh, but you do!” Dandelion jumped down from the crate he'd sat down on, and strode over to her, “I told you. I am Dandelion, the bard and poet, best friend of Geralt of Rivia”   
“Geralt of Rivia? The vatt’ghern?” Signe took a step back, hugging the bottle close to her chest.   
“A human using the Elder Speech? Iorveth’s allowed you to join the Scoia’tael? It’s obvious you’re not a prisoner, else you’d be shackled to the wall over there”, he nodded towards a wall filled with rusty shackles and chains hanging from the wall. “Or put in one of the cells behind me. Well”, he sighed dramatically and looking at her with intense eyes, “If you’d be so kind as to share some wine with me, sweet lady, I’d gladly repay you by telling you of my grand adventures and travels. I could tell you of how I saved the witcher Geralt from a succubus, if such a thing would peak your interest”   
“A succubus? Demon’s don’t exist”, Signe said with determination in her voice, but Dandelion smirked.   
“Of course they do!” he spread his arms open, “You’ve never seen one? I thought everyone had seen one at least once in their life”   
“I’m not that old”, Signe said dryly.   
Dandelion laughed, “Of course not, m’Lady!”  
Then he reached out and grabbed the bottle from her bosom, almost intentionally touching her right breast with his hand, “Now, let me open this for you my dear. Oh, sit down and I’ll tell you the most delicious and adventurous stories” 

 

After some time, people from up on the main deck began to more down to the lower deck. Dandelion raved on, speaking of monsters and demons, of the witcher, the white-haired one with a constant scowl on his face, of how Dandelion had saved him from every thinkable situation. Looking at Dandelion and considering the width of the witcher’s statue, Signe couldn’t possibly believe this silly looking man had saved that man from dragons and demons alike.   
People sat down here and there, grabbing wine for themselves and chatting silently, or listening to Dandelion speak, laughing at times. Signe listened, but remained doubtful as the bard’s eyes followed her, looking at her for confirmation and seemingly waiting for her to simply fall to his feet in admiration of his all too incredible stories. 

Then, heavy steps walked down the stairs, the witcher with Iorveth just behind him came down and Iorveth’s eyes met her. Dandelion looked back over his shoulder, “Over here, Geralt!” he waved, “This perfect little dove found us some wine, I’ve been telling her everything about our adventures”   
Signe could see Iorveth seethe as Dandelion called her ‘little dove’ and as Geralt came and sat down next to Dandelion, Iorveth walked over and stood behind Signe, crossing his arms over his chest.   
“And as I said, my fair lady”, he looked back at Signe now, taking a deep swig from his mug of wine, “I shall compose a song retelling of your magical eyes. They truly _are_ the same colour of true, rich sapphires”   
“Iorveth”, Geralt said, “Sit down, you’re making people nervous”   
“Haha!” Dandelion laughed, “That’s rich coming from you, Geralt. By the way, have you been introduced to this lovely gem of a woman?”   
“No”, Geralt said, meeting Iorveth’s eyes and Signe thought for a moment she could hear Iorveth growl.   
“Well, neither have I”, Dandelion said, completely ignorant of the tension surrounding them, “She’s yet to tell me her name, even thought I’ve told her most everything about myself and you alike, Geralt. Though, I may have deduced that she’s travelling with the sardonic-looking elven commander here, since she knows Elder Speech” 

Iorveth cleared his throat and sat down, “She doesn’t know Elder Speech, dh’oine”, Iorveth said, pouring more wine into Signe’s mug and grabbing it, taking a deep gulp.   
“Oh, but she referred to Geralt as a ‘vatt’ghern’”, Dandelion looked at the elf with curious eyes.   
“It is because I refer to the Gwynbleidd as a vatt’ghern, you imbecile”, Iorveth said, looking at Dandelion with a renewed look of disgust.   
Dandelion huffed, turning back to Signe with a sly smile, “So, m’Lady, who may you be? A lady so secretive makes me want to know even more, it spurs a man on, making the chase even more intriguing. And traveling with the Scoia’tael, gaining the obvious protection of Iorveth himself – you simply have to tell us!” 

Signe turned to peek at Iorveth, who looked at her from his side, his large emerald eye narrowed and his eyebrows drawn together. “Her name is Signe”, Iorveth said after a moment’s silence.  
“She needs your permission to tell us who she is?” Geralt said and looked at Iorveth with stern eyes. The witcher’s eyes were strange, not only that they were yellow, but they were split, like cat-eyes. Signe thought them lurid and frightening.   
“Yes”, Iorveth said calmly.   
Dandelion frowned, “So she’s a prisoner then, walking freely among us? What could such a beautiful flower possibly have done?”   
Iorveth frowned.   
“I’ve done nothing”, Signe said, taking back her mug of wine from Iorveth and Dandelion’s eyes widened at the action.   
“Dandelion”, Geralt said, “Quit asking questions you don’t want the answers to”   
“Now why would I not want those answers? You know me, Geralt, I simply can’t resist a maiden in need”   
“Forgive my crudeness”, Geralt looked at Iorveth and then Signe, “Though I don’t think she’s a maiden”   
“What are you say-“, Dandelion put his mug down with a hard thump on the table before him, “ _Oh_ ”   
Iorveth stared at the bard intensely and Dandelion laughed nervously.   
“I see”, Dandelion said, “I do apologise, I meant nothing rude with my ill-advised questions”   
“Or your blabbering mouth”, Geralt pointed out with a sigh.   
“Make sure your imbecile friend here keeps his mouth shut”, Iorveth hissed, before he stood and strode away, stopping to speak for a moment with one of his Scoia'tael. 

“Oh well”, Dandelion sighed with a smile, looking at Geralt and then at Signe, “Only two days left of this voyage. Where’s Zoltan?”

*


	13. Cornered

“Did Vernon Roche sail out of here all right?” Geralt asked Iorveth, walking up to him as he stood speaking with Ciaran aep Easnillen, Ciaran nodded slowly as Iorveth spoke in silent words, standing close to each other.   
Iorveth turned to Geralt who interrupted his conversation with the other elf, narrowing his eyes, “What kind of a question is that? He’s fine, if that’s what you ask. We met and chatted. Imagine that. He’s only leaving, because I let him do so”  
Geralt nodded and hummed, looking slightly disturbed, “What’s first when we arrive in Vergen?”   
“I need to speak with Saskia”, Iorveth said.   
“Saesenthessis?” Geralt asked, his eyes widening for a moment, “You two know each other?”   
“Yes”, Iorveth said without any readable expression on his face. 

“You’re hoping to aid her against Demavend the third?” Geralt asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “Does that mean you support Prince Stennis?”   
“I do not”, Iorveth answered with a snarl, “But with Saskia in power, the Elder races can finally have a chance at freedom, their own land. The Scoia’tael have been used and abused by too many human lords and frankly, I care little of what happens to Stennis, I’d gladly kill him myself, as long as Saskia comes in possession of the crown”   
“I take back what I said”, Geralt murmured, looking up at Iorveth with narrowed eyes, “You’re not grandiose, you’re mad”   
“My mother claimed likewise”, Iorveth said with a shrug, “Was there something else, vatt’ghern, I have things I need to discuss with my second in command”   
“I need to find Letho”, Geralt said, “He’s got Triss, but I don’t now the exact location where they might have ended up”   
“Perhaps Saskia will know something”, Iorveth said, “We’ll speak later, Gwynbleidd”   
“All right”, Geralt said before he turned and left to walk up the stairs.

*

Signe returned into the small room in which she and Iorveth had been before, it was still empty since all of the other’s were spread out on the main deck or below, as well as in the other small rooms around the ship.  
Signe quickly learned that there were no toilets or outhouses aboard a ship like this, and when you needed to relieve your bladder or do the other one, you went in a bucket and hauled it off of the ship into the water. She was still moist between her legs from before, her own fluids mixing with Iorveth’s semen and she felt she needed to clean herself up. Then, the thought of pregnancy hit her and she felt her stomach drop. Why hadn’t he pulled out of her?  
She and John had decided to wait with having a family and so he’d pull out of her just before he came, but Iorveth, had spent himself inside her. Could humans and elves even have children?  
She tried to remember if she’d heard anything about it, but right then and there, the frightening thought of having to birth a child in this filthy world had her breath leaving her.

She grabbed a bucket and walked out through the large room on the lower deck, zigzagging through elves and dwarves sitting all around, drinking. The level of noise down there was like a wall hitting her, but eventually she reached the large barrels of water and turned the tap, filling her bucket halfway and then walking back to the small room. On her way, she almost stumbled over an elf pulling his chair out and standing up in the middle of her way. She bumped into him, spilling some of the water over herself.   
“Watch were you’re going, dh’oine whore”, he seethed and Signe frowned, looking at him for a moment before she pushed past him.

When she came back into the small room, she pulled the door shut and locked it, as she shrugged out of her trousers again. She’d found a rag and she dipped it into the bucket of water, cleaning herself up. It was too cold outside and inside the ship for her to clean her entire body, only her nether regions would be able to become somewhat clean, other wise she’d freeze and possibly catch a cold.   
When she was finished, she used the bottom of her shift to dry up, before she put on her trousers again and went to spread her coat out on the floor. She lay down on it, listening to the ruckus outside her door, feeling the ship moving slowly, swinging slightly as ships do.   
She’d not suffered from nausea yet, which she’d done when she was on a boat before, but instead, her stomach ached from the thought of becoming pregnant. She couldn’t shake the thought as she lay there on the hard wooden floor, hearing rats running about. The wine she had had, took away some of the hunger she felt, she hadn’t eaten since that morning and there had been no food served yet. She didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark and she was tired. 

When she’d slept for what felt like too short a time, she woke to two hard knocks on the door and someone trying to push it open.   
“Hello”, the voice said, it was a soft voice but in her half-asleep state, she couldn’t recognize it, “Signe, are you in there?”   
“Who… Who is it?” Signe answered, noticing it had quieted down outside.   
“It’s Tir”, the voice said and Signe remembered the voice. Tir had been kind to her and so Signe stood up from the floor, her body ached from sleeping on such a hard surface and she stretched her neck as she walked over to the door and unclasped the lock.   
“Why have you locked the door? Are you afraid?” Tir asked, walking inside the room with a plate of cheese, what looked like rough rye bread and salted lard in her hands, and a bottle under her arm. “I brought you some food. Figured you might be hungry”   
“Thank you”, Signe said and closed the door behind Tir. “Where’s Iorveth?”   
“Why do you ask?” Tir looked at her as she put the plate down on the floor and sat down herself.   
Signe shook her head, “Forget it, it's nothing”  
“He was speaking with Ciaran a lot, but then he walked away with Neave, haven’t seen him since”, Tir said, cutting the cheese into thick slices. “Here, eat something”, she reached a piece of cheese to Signe. 

“Who’s Ciaran?” Signe asked, smelling the cheese carefully before she took a bite from it. Glorious cheese, she thought as its round, almost nutty flavour spread in her mouth.   
“Ciaran aep Easnillen”, Tir said, “Is Iorveth’s second in command”   
Signe nodded, “Hm, okay”, she said. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”   
“Vergen”, Tir said and broke off two pieces of the bread, handing one of the pieces to Signe and then dipping her piece into the salted lard.   
“What’s in vergen?”   
“Dwarves”, Tir shrugged, chewing on the now greasy but still stale bread, “And Saskia”   
Signe took a bite from the bread, it was definitely stale, but still edible. “And Saskia is?”   
Tir looked at her with a strange look in her eyes, “She’s an old friend of the Scoia’tael and Iorveth”   
“There are Scoia’tael there too?”   
“Of course, we’re all over”, Tir said with a smile, “And helping Saskia to the throne, will end the dh’oine oppression of the Elder races. She’s a fair and strong woman. I’ve never met her, but they say she’s one of the most beautiful women alive”   
“She’s an elf like you then, I presume?” Signe asked, taking another slice of cheese and biting into it.   
“Oh no”, Tir smiled, “She’s no Aen Seidhe, neither is she even a human, even if she looks like one”   
“Don’t tell me she’s a gnome or a ten thousand year old ghost”, Signe sighed, rolling her eyes.   
Tir laughed, pulling the cork out of the bottle and giving it to Signe, “No”, she said, “She’s a dragon”   
Signe stared at her, “A _dragon_? You’re joking”   
Tir shook her head, her eyes looking almost mischievous.   
“Dragons don’t exist, Tir”, Signe said.   
“What? Of course they do”   
“They _don’t_ ”   
“They _do_ , dh’oine. You’ve never seen one? Not even a little wyvern?” Tir looked at her with her alert eyes.   
“No, I haven’t, because they don’t exist” 

“You really are strange, you know that?” Tir said and dipped another piece of bread into the lard. Signe just rolled her eyes.   
“What’s Neave’s issue, by the way? I get that no one likes me, but he looks as if he wants to string me up on a pike and flay me alive”, Signe asked after a while.   
Tir shrugged, “He’s a bit like that, but I suppose he doesn’t like Iorveth keeping you here, you being a dh’oine and all” 

When they had finished their meal, they sat talking for a while longer, before Signe thanked Tir for the food. Tir left her alone again and Signe lay back down on her coat, trying to fall asleep again, but with the food, her energy had been renewed and it seemed her mind had decided on keeping her awake, twisting and turning.   
After a while, she decided to get up and walk around the ship for a moment, hopefully a majority of those on board was asleep, that way, she’d be left alone. 

Opening the door and stepping out, she noticed some dwarves sprawled out on the floor, sleeping and snoring, probably having passed out from the wine found in the crates. She carefully stepped over them and came face to face with the elf that had walked in on her and Iorveth, Ele’yas. He sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the main deck, whetting a knife and when she looked at him, he lifted his head and looked back at her.   
“Maybe you shouldn’t be out of your room this time of night, dh’oine”, he said in a low voice.   
Signe carefully walked over to him and leaned against the stairs, looking down on him.   
“Iorveth may be our commander, but should you, for example, fall on something like this”, he held his knife out, it shone in the dim light from the small fires burning around the large room, “You’re nothing more than a dead dh’oine whore. He might find you fascinating, perhaps even exotic with your strange accent, your unmarred skin and those large deep eyes of yours. But you're nought more than a whore, belonging in a filthy human brothel”   
Signe remained quiet as she looked at him, then he sheathed his knife and rose from the step, turning to face her. “Is that why you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, Elias?”   
“It’s Ele’yas, dh’oine”, he corrected her, grabbing a hold of her hair with a tight grip of his fist. “So you enjoy being fucked by Aen Seidhe? Every filthy human does. We’re larger, considered more beautiful, stronger. Not to speak of our stamina compared to your useless kind”, he leaned in and smelled her hair, groaning slightly. “It is true, what they’ve said, you’re indeed pretty for a dh’oine slag”, he murmured and pressed her into the corner. She could feel his erection pressing against her hip and she tried to push him away. 

“Stop it, Elias”, Signe said, but he didn’t. One of his hands snaked inside her shift, squeezing one of her breasts.   
“That’s the one thing I find myself enjoying with you dh’oine, your tits. So much larger, rounder, fuller”, he groaned and grinded himself against her.   
Signe pushed at him again, but he was strong, they all were, “I’ll fucking scream”, she hissed, “If you don’t let go of me now”   
Ele’yas chuckled, pulling his hand out of her shift and reaching out, stroking her bottom lip. “Don’t think you’re safe, just because Iorveth put his dick inside you, varh’he. I got my eyes on you”   
“Fuck you”, Signe spat and he pushed her hard into the corner again, Signe’s breath hitching from the force. Ele’yan smirked and backed away from her.   
“Just wait until he's reunited with Saskia, then he’ll throw you away like a used rag”, Ele’yan said with lurid eyes and a knavish smile. 

Signe quickly walked back to her room and locked the door behind her, as she leaned against the door, she remembered what Tir had said about this Saskia. ‘One of the most beautiful women alive’, she’d said. And she looked human, like Signe was. Was she simply a replacement for Iorveth, until he would meet Saskia again? ‘He’ll throw you away like a used rag’, Ele’yas said.   
Would Iorveth do that?   
And where was he? 

She wanted to go looking for him, but after her run-in with Ele’yan, she didn’t dare to go outside her small room again. She’d rather just stay in here for the rest of the boat ride, or, until she died. Right then and there, she fucking loathed this world and it’s damned conflicts, the racism and the sodding violence.   
Why was she here in the first place?  
Why did Iorveth insist on bringing her to this ship, sailing to whatever kind of place this ‘Vergen’ they talked about was. Why hadn’t he simply left her in the woods, so that she could make her way back to Anezka? 

Because Vernon, the blue-stripes commander now thought she was with the Scoia’tael. Iorveth had told her. But, did that mean he’d think Anezka was connected to the Scoia’tael as well? Would he try to hurt her?   
Fear went through Signe like lightning and her knees felt weak. She slid down the door, sitting on the ground as tears started pouring from her eyes.   
She was so fucking alone, surrounded by people, but still, so _alone_. God help her. 

 


	14. Foulmouthed Dwarves

“Ugh”, Dandelion shuddered and Signe glared at him, “I always get nervous around Scoia’tael. Scoundrels and murderers. Usually, their presence it outright unwanted!”   
“Yet here ye are!” the dwarf, Zoltan apparently, chuckled and drove his fist into the air, “I always knew you were a right pig-licker, Dandelion, but ‘tis good to ‘ave ye here”   
Dandelion shrugged noncommittally, “I’ll admit I’m glad to have the help of Iorveth and his infamous bunch, they could prove highly helpful! Help…helpful. No, I can’t say that”, Dandelion shook his head and held out his hands in protest as if someone was writing down the things he said, “Highly useful, then”, he concluded with a priggish smile on his face.   
Signe tutted, shaking her head as she jumped down from the barrel she was sitting on, out on the main deck. She watched as the ship slowly but steadily came closer and closer to a city rising up amidst the trees. A dwarven city. 

Iorveth hadn’t spoken to her since he left her half-naked in that small room, he’d hardly looked at her either, for that matter. She supposed he felt he needed to distance himself from her, keeping a lid on what was going on between them. That meant, that even if she didn’t plan on doing it, she hadn’t been able to tell him about Ele’yas and his disgusting fondling and his threats. Ele’yas looked at her, however, casting her lurid smiles every now and again, grabbing his crotch as he walked past her. Signe tried to shake it off, ignore it.   
His words however, stuck with her. About Iorveth and Saskia. 

Iorveth stood in the front of the ship, on the port side, watching up towards where they were all heading. Ciaran stood slightly behind him, as well as Neave and a few other elves. He said something and gesticulated harshly, Ciaran adding something and Iorveth giving him a confirming nod.   
Looking at him like this, made it ache inside her. He was being cruel. Everyone, almost, was cruel. The humans, Geralt and Dandelion weren’t cruel to her and the dwarves where all right, but the elves – all of them, except for Tir, sneered at her. When she walked past them, she heard them call her ‘dh’oine whore’ under their breaths. Neave kept far away from her, but when she occasionally caught his eyes, he looked murderous. 

By know, she felt like she’d cried enough, but when Ele’yas walked past her making a vulgar gesture and grabbing his crotch, she had to frown to hide the tears of anger, hurt and pain that welled up inside her. Her blushing cheekbones probably gave it away in either case, but there was no use in letting that bastard know how it pained her.   
She looked up towards where Iorveth stood, and noticed he was walking down, towards her. She shook her head and quickly slipped away down below. It was better to hide away, she was growing tired of spiteful eyes watching her, and Iorveth’s complete and utter ignorance. 

“Dh’oine!” she heard Iorveth’s voice shout as she closed the door behind her. She kept walking, ignoring the few elves and dwarves present below deck, instead walking into her room and closing the door.   
She heard the door above open and close, the stairs cracking from feet moving down and then, a moment later her door was pushed open and Iorveth strode in, shutting the door with a loud noise. 

He bore his usual snarl on his face, but then he looked up, really _looking_ at her.   
“What is it?” he asked and Signe twitched, twisting her lips.   
“Why, Iorveth, did you bring me with you?” Signe crossed her arms over her chest defensively, “You ignore me, let your bloody elves speak to me as if I’m completely worthless, but at the same time, you obviously have no problem fucking me”   
Iorveth took a few steps closer to her, cocking his head with a worried look on his face, “What have they said?” he asked.   
“What does it matter? None of it’s anything worse than you’ve already called me!” Signe hissed, “And now, in a matter of hours, you’ll be reunited with Saskia, whom you’ve not even seen fit to _mention_ to me. I’m fucking tired of this”, her hands flew up in protest.   
“When I’m _reunited_ with Saskia?!” Iorveth snarled, grabbing her wrists, “What’s that implying?”  
“I don’t know, Iorveth, you tell me”, Signe jerked her hands out from his grip and pushing him away, making Iorveth fall back a few steps. 

“I-“, he hesitated for a moment, stroking his face with his palms, sighing. “There’s been talk about Saskia and I for many years. Supposedly, I’ve bedded her for close to a century”   
Signe’s face twitched and she shook her head, “Supposedly?”   
“Who even told you about this?” Iorveth groaned.   
“What does that matter? You obviously know about it, so it must have some truth to it”, Signe said. “It’s better you tell me know and break this thing off, before I’ll actually become hurt”   
Iorveth frowned and stepped up to her again, clasping his hands over her cheeks. “I’ve never taken Saskia to my bed”, he said.  
“Well, you’ve never taken me to your bed either, just so we’re clear on the terminology”, Signe said.   
Iorveth frowned and looked at her, “You doubt me, dh’oine?”   
“Like you’ve given me any reason not to”, Signe snorted with disgust. He closed his one eye and shook his head slowly, frowning.   
“En’ca minne”, Iorveth opened his eye and reached out, touching her cheek, “N’te dice’en. Va’esse deireádh aep eigean, va’esse eigh faidh’ar. Aé minne visse” 

Signe pulled away, frowning, “You know perfectly well that I can’t understand a word of that, except ‘little dove’”  
Iorveth nodded carefully.   
“So, what did you say?” Signe asked.   
“My love”, Iorveth said, “Something ends, something begins”  
“En’ka minné? It means ‘My love’ as well?” Signe asked, her eyebrows drawn together.   
“Yes”, Iorveth said quietly. “I brought you here, because I want you close to me. But as things are progressing, _this_ is dangerous and we need to be careful about who knows and does not. Considering _who_ I am, you might end up in a very bad situation”   
“How dangerous?” Signe asked.   
“I don’t yet know. But we’re sailing into Vergen now, we shall know more when we’re on land”   
Signe nodded.  
“Put on your coat and come up, stay close to me for the time being. And stay away from that fucking bard, I can’t stand that imp”, Iorveth huffed and pulled Signe into a hug, kissing her hair, before he released her walked out.

*

“Yarpen Zigrin!” Signe could hear the bard exclaim further away. She was walking with Iorveth a few paces behind the witcher, Zoltan and Dandelion. Iorveth groaned slightly at the mention of the name and Signe looked up at him.  
“Someone you know?” Signe whispered.  
“Unfortunately”, Iorveth answered coolly.

She heard them began to talk, but the voices was still only murmurs blowing around with the wind, and until Iorveth and her came closer, she wouldn’t be able to listen in further. Iorveth slowed down, as if wanting to delay his immediate arrival. He reached out and touched her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and Signe looked up at him. Unfortunately she was walking on his left side and she couldn’t see much of his expression. But he lifted up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, before releasing her again.   
“Stay close to me, en’ca minne”, he whispered and Signe nodded with a frown. 

“Foltest was a ploughing niggard and a niggardly plougher”, a deep, hoarse and frankly, annoying voice sounded. “Ye did right, Geralt!”   
“Not the point!” Dandelion’s voice, “Geralt’s lost his memory”   
“And I didn’t kill Foltest”, Geralt answered.   
“Right, right, What’s the difference? Someone did! But we’ve bigger problems now”, the annoying voice, obviously belonging to a dwarf sounded, just as Iorveth and Signe walked up to the small group that had gathered. 

Iorveth held Signe back and strode up to stand beside Geralt, looking at him and then at the ugly little man with a huge beard standing before him in a filthy red coat.   
“Where’s Saskia?” Iorveth asked.   
“Ooh, aye”, the dwarf answered, “The butcher’s here”   
“I’ve come with a hundred archers, the best in the world. We’re here to aid your cause”, Iorveth said, seemingly trying very hard not to have a go at the retched little man.   
“Oh, but ye have to wait, Saskia and Prince Penis, psstth – eh, Prince Stennis”, the dwarf cleared his throat, “Wen’t off to parlay with Henselt. Me and me’ boys are waiting in case something goes wrong” 

Iorveth spat on the ground and let out a snarl, just as everything became dark around them.   
“The sun’s gone dark”, the dwarf growled, pointing to the sky. “Call the sorceress!” he shouted and started running.   
Iorveth frowned, staring up into the sky, him and Geralt exchanging nods. “Come, dh’oine”, he said over his shoulder and gestured for Signe to follow him. Behind her, several of the archers had already caught up with them, now staring up at the dark sky as well. 

Iorveth and Geralt started running and Signe followed, but before she knew it, they were met with soldiers in strange colours running away. Iorveth looked back and stopped quickly, grabbing Signe, “If there’s a battle, you fucking hide, you hear me!?”   
Signe nodded frantically as they continued running. 

Soon, they came upon a broken tent and several dead bodies, someone looking like a king, a fat one, was pushed inside a goddamned black whole from out of nowhere,   
“Saskia!” Iorveth’s voice sounded almost scared as he rushed up to a female in heavy armor, crouched over a man lying on the ground covered in a very medieval looking golden armour. He wasn’t responding, at least it didn’t look like he did. Signe’s head whipped around and she stared with wide eyes at the purple mist surrounding them. Then, the female turned and looked around with terrified eyes and Signe saw how the dead around her rose. Iorveth shouted, but Signe couldn’t hear what he was shouting at her, as he was too far away, but it looked as if he panicked.   
Signe whipped around, staring at the bodies who had started to move towards her and towards Iorveth, Geralt and the woman.   
Then, an arm grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back quickly and Signe turned her head and saw that it was Ele’yas who’d taken her. He looked scared to death as he carried her up over a boulder, setting her down and crouching, readying his bow and aiming.   
Signe sat there just slightly behind him, watching the mayhem erupt below them. Geralt, Iorveth and the woman fought off the dead, slicing through them with their swords, while still trying to protect the man in golden armour lying on the ground behind them. A large stone stood behind them, similar to a round rune and a strange light came from it and the air around them buzzed strangely. 

Then, an owl appeared, flying towards the small group on the ground and the man in the golden armour who had been unresponsive before, now shrieked in pain as he tried to stand up. The female flew to his side in an instant and Iorveth whipped around, as if worried she’d been hurt. Arrows pinned the dead to the ground and soon, everything around them was lit up by a strange white light from the owl, as if lightning up their way.   
The female held the wounded man and helped him stand up, balancing him against her shoulder as they started walking. Geralt followed them and Iorveth looked up to Signe and Ele’yas and waved for them to follow before he rushed after the others. Ele’yas pulled his bow over his shoulder and stood up, quickly jumping down the vast height. Signe just looked down on him, shaking her head. She _hated_ heights.   
Ele’yan held his arms out, “Jump, dh’oine!” he shouted, “ _Now_ , before we’re eaten alive by these undead bastards”   
Signe took a deep breath, before she jumped and Ele’yan caught her, “Good, now come on!” he growled and dragged her with him, running after everyone else. Ele’yan and Signe had fallen behind due to her unwillingness to jump, but they eventually caught up. 

Then, after a few hundred meters, it calmed down and the owl flew away. Signe still walked further behind with Ele’yas, who kept his eyes on her. Geralt and the hurt man, now being able to walk by himself walked in the front, and Iorveth walked with the female behind them, talking. But being so far away, Signe had no idea what they said.   
“Who are they?” Signe asked Ele’yas and he looked at her from the side.   
“Those two?” he asked and Signe nodded. “The woman Iorveth’s walking with is Saskia, the other one, Prince Stennis”   
Signe felt her cheeks heat and Ele’yas looked at her, frowning.   
“No crude jokes left, or what?” Signe said with a bite to her voice.   
“Oh, I’ve got plenty, dh’oine”, he chuckled, “Want to hear one now?”   
“No, thank you”, Signe said dryly. 

Then, the ugly little dwarf from before met them, Yarpen, if she remembered correctly and the owl flew over him, eventually landing on his shoulder. Then, a light blinded her for a second, as the goddamned owl changed into a _woman_.   
Signe felt her knees give in and Ele’yas caught her a second before she crashed to the ground, holding her up.   
“What’s the matter, dh’oine, never seen a sorceress before?” he said.   
“Fuck you, Elias”   
“ _Ele’yas_ ”, he corrected her, holding her around the waist and leaning her against him. 

“I hate flying through fog”, the sorceress said. She was beautiful, clad in the strangest looking dress Signe had ever seen. The sorceress strode quickly up to Iorveth and Saskia, “Saskia, are you alright?” she almost demanded in a stiff voice.   
“It’s just a flesh wound”, the blonde woman answered. So that was Saskia, Signe thought and looked at her. Strong and beautiful, with large dark doe eyes and fine features. She wouldn’t be surprised if Iorveth threw her away on account of her. “You and the witcher, we owe you our lives”, she continued.   
“I’m here to protect you”, the sorceress said. “And you, witcher?”  
“I’m after a kingslayer who kidnapped Triss Merigold”, Geralt answered, face emotionless.   
Signe couldn’t help noticing how Iorveth kept his eye peeled on Saskia, looking at her with worry in his eye.   
“And brought her here?” the sorceress asked the witcher.   
“Is this an interrogation?” Geralt asked, narrowing his eyes.   
“There are warrants on your head in Temeria, Kaedwen and Redania. And I’m responsible for Saskia’s safety”, the sorceress spat.   
“That’s enough Philippa”, Saskia told the sorceress. “You told me yourself you thought him innocent”   
“Saskia, folk are riled”, the dwarf said, pointing at Geralt, “First the sun went out and then the Squirrels arrived, now this fog, it’s too much for us common folk”   
“True, summon all the commanders to the meeting hall”, Saskia said and then looked at Iorveth standing next to her, “Iorveth, give me some time. I must prepare them for your arrival”, then she looked at Geralt and Philippa, “Witcher, Philippa, you must be there too. I wish to hear what we can expect from this anomaly and how we might be rid of it. Worry not, Yarpen, the legendary White Wolf and the equally famous Philippa Eilhart should have a remedy for several hundred wraiths”

When Saskia, Geralt, Philippa, the prince and the dwarf walked off, Iorveth stayed behind, looking back at Signe and Ele’yas, he frowned as he looked to Signe’s right, at Ele’yas, but then he walked towards them.   
“Well fought, all of you”, he shouted with a determined look on his face. “It’s safe here, make camp just outside the city’s gates, put up traps and other protection, in case any of the wraiths should get through the sorceress’ spells”   
Then he looked at Signe and waved, “Dh’oine, come with me”   
Signe looked to Ele’yas who smirked, then shrugged and walked off, following the others and preparing to set up the camp.

*

Iorveth looked at Signe, she looked pale and he understood she’d be very shaken up. He had seen Ele’yas drag her back and out of harms way, which he was thankful for. He steered her into the forest on the opposite side from where he had ordered the camp, so that they could get some privacy before they could enter the town.

“Are you all right, en’ca minne?” Iorveth spoke quietly as he lead Signe further into the forest. When they reached a small gathering of trees, shielding them off from the road below, he stopped her and looked at her. She had no blood on her, but she looked pale and somehow, her eyes were different.   
“Yes, I’m fine, only shaken up”, she answered and Iorveth nodded. He could understand that, considering where she was from. He didn’t think she’d actually witnessed that kind of obvious magic before, since she was still very much doubtful about its existence. “Are you?” she asked, her hands searching his body for cuts and blood, but seemed to find none.   
“It seems I am”, he said, taking off his leather gloves and raking his hands through her thick, dark hair. Her eyes were dulled, but they still shone like sapphires in the dim light surrounding them. “Are you still angry?”   
“A bit, yes”, she admitted and Iorveth stroked her cheek with his bare hand, touching her soft and warm skin. He needed to go soon, attending that council meeting. Saskia would send someone soon to fetch him, but most of all, he wanted to find a room. A real room, not a small scrub on a barge, nor a damp and cold cave, but a room, where he could take Signe with him and sleep in an actual bed with her. Feeling her soft, curvy body pressed against his own. “Iorveth”, she said and he leaned down to kiss her. Her lips where perfectly soft and full, sweet and thick in the most exhilarating way and he moaned slightly against her. She kissed him back, her hands splayed over his chest as one of his hands circled around her neck. Then she pushed back, looking at him, “We need to talk about this”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Iorveth says in full, to Signe before they arrive in Vergen. He does not translate it in full to her.   
> En’ca minne. N'te dice'en. Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar. Aé minne visse – My love. Don’t say anything. Something ends, something begins. I love you.


	15. A Council and an Arse

Iorveth brought Signe with him into the town of Vergen and thankfully, Signe thought, he’d left Ciaran in charge of ‘guarding’ her. He didn’t really put it in those words, but Ciaran looked bored where they sat at the inn. People, both dwarves and humans looked at them strangely where they sat in a darkened corner. Ciaran smoked as he sat beside her, silent, with one foot pressed against the edge of the table in front of them. 

It seemed that most elves, or Aen Seidhe as they preferred you calling them, had very dark, straight hair. Almost none of them had curling hair like Signe had, or even wavy. But the colours of their eyes differed more, she’d even seen elves with purple-like eyes, which she thought was highly strange. Ciaran, as most elves, were handsome, lean and looking like a slim tall Scandinavian man, apart from the obvious elven features, of course. Ciaran’s eyes were light brown, a warm hazel and his skin was almost as pale as her own. 

 

“Oi, you there”, a drunken human man shouted at Signe, staggering towards her, “What are you doing with that bloody elf? Come o’er ‘ere and I’ll show you how a _real_ man ploughs a woman like yerself”   
Signe frowned and noticed Ciaran rolling his eyes, sucking on his slim pipe, still very calm, but keeping his eyes on the drunkard.   
“Oi, I’m talking to ya, you fucking slag”, he spluttered, staggering up to their table and banged his fist into it. 

Signe started to rise from where she sat, but was hindered by Ciaran who pushed her back down into her seat as he eyed the man up and down. “Leave, dh’oine”, he said, blowing out smoke from between his lips.   
“What did ya call me, ye sodden limped-dicked squirrel?” the man roared and pushed at the table. His spit flying all over, but the table, however, didn’t move since Ciaran still held his foot against the edge and the brawly man was all too drunk to do anything but make a lot of noise.   
“I told you to leave”, Ciaran said, frowning. He still held his hand on Signe’s arm, keeping her from running and Signe didn’t rightly know what to do. “We don’t want any trouble”, he said.   
“I was’ne talking to _you_ , elf”, the man spluttered and his eyes fell on Signe again. He looked disgusting, slightly fat and bald, hardly any teeth left and from what she could see under his rags, he was heavily tattooed. He almost fell over when he tried to look down her shift and that’s when Ciaran gave the table a harsh push, making the brute topple over and crash into the floor. He shouted and growled as a few other’s came running, both dwarves and humans. One of them seemed to be working at the inn, a small brawly dwarf with a cloth covering his scalp and a long auburn beard. 

“What’s going on here?” he growled, looking at Signe and Ciaran both. Signe looked at Ciaran, who shrugged.   
“The dh’oine was acting poorly in front of my company”, Ciaran said, bringing his pipe up to his mouth again, looking intently at the dwarf. “I don’t think anyone would take kindly to ones company being treated like a common strumpet, only for finding herself at an inn”   
The dwarf huffed, looking down at the drunken sod lying in a pile of his own arms and legs on the floor, now only moaning, “Well, it seems he’s gotten himself a tad too drunk, that one”, the dwarf nodded. “But”, he pointed at Ciaran, “I know what ye are, Squirrel, and I donae want any trouble from the likes of yous, you hear me?”   
“Loud and clear”, Ciaran muttered and the dwarf dragged the drunkard away from their table and left them alone again. 

“Ugh”, Signe said, making a disgusted face, “I hate those kind of men, fucking pompous arseholes. How can they even begin to think every woman would like to sleep with them?”   
Ciaran shrugged.   
“They’re like that where I come from as well”, Signe mumbled, yawning slightly, “Believing they’re every woman’s dream, only because of the prick between their legs” 

She heard Ciaran chuckle and she turned her head, looking at him.   
“Finally got you to smile then, Aen Seidhe?” she said with a smile and Ciaran gave her a quiet nod.

*

“Now, to wordly matters. How many are we?” Iorveth had been brought into the council and stood outside their large circular meeting chamber, listening as Saskia spoke.  
“Saskia, you know well”, Yarpen said in his rough voice.  
“ _How many_ ”, Saskia demanded.  
“We dwarves are near two hundred, but don’t judge us by our number”, Yarpen answered.  
“A half thousand peasants will come, though, you’ll get no precise count”, another voice answered, one of the commanders. _Dh’oine_ , Iorveth scowled.  
“My lords?” Saskia asked.  
“Fifty three knights and another two hundred armed men. Not enough…”, one of the lords said.  
“Henselt leads five thousand, five to one against us, what think you of that?” Saskia asked.

Iorveth admired her. She was strong, straightforward and had a courage few possessed. He’d be lying if he said he’d never looked at her twice or thought about how a dragon, transformed into a woman, made love. But Saskia had never shown any interest in him, other than a close friendship.   
“We are few, they are many”, the same voice spoke. “But we have our walls, low though they be. If we had archers, who knows?” Iorveth smiled, huffing.   
“Ooh, for a regiment of airbullets from Lyria”, Yarpen spoke with a hint of longing in his rough voice.   
“We have something better”, Saskia spoke up, “Iorveth’s elves. Scoia’tael”, and that was Iorveth’s cue to walk in. It’s always about putting on a good show, isn’t it? Iorveth thought with a scowl as he walked inside the large chamber. 

He saw the gathered commanders looking at each other, some of them – or, fuck, most of them, with more than a hint of fear in their eyes.   
Iorveth stopped behind Saskia and crossed his arms over his chest, as he gave the Gwynbleidd a nod.   
“Gentlemen”, Saskia said as she rose from her chair, “I give you Iorveth”   
Immediately, one of the dh’oine lords rose from his chair and pointed at Iorveth with fury in his eyes, “What do you seek here, murderer!?” his voice was demanding.   
“A hundred of the North’s best archers awaits your orders, dragonslayer”, Iorveth remained calm, looking at the man.   
“Ye wished for archers, here they are”, the Gwynbleidd’s dwarf said, nodding towards Iorveth, who answered him with a snarl. Ugh, he didn’t like that one.

“Asch, I take no pleasure in fraternizing with elves”, Yarpen, the drunken sod spoke up, looking up at Iorveth from down where he stood in front of him, “But even a shit-coated stick can be a weapon”  
“But he burned down the villages in many of my hoard!” one of the noble bastards shouted.   
“The free peasantry is one thing”, Stennis said, “But a criminal with a prize on his head in all the Northern realms? This is too much” 

Iorveth looked at Saskia, “Saskia, say the word and we’ll depart”, he said.   
“Hear me out”, Saskia turned to the gathered men in the chamber, “Iorveth came to fight for me, I trust him and I know that he’ll stay the course. Just like each of you”   
“How could you know that?” the dragonslayer shouted, “He’s an elf, treason runs in his veins!”   
“He’s been fighting humans for a century!” one of the lords said, frowning and pointedly looking away from Iorveth. 

“But for the first time in scores of years, his fight makes sense”, Saskia said, “The Scoia’tael know no peace, they’ve died for Nilfgaard, for the Valley of the Flowers, in vain”, Iorveth lowered his head slightly at the thought her word brought to his mind. He never lowered his head, but his body did it without him noticing. “They’ve been betrayed and cheated, now they have a new goal. The Pontar Valley could be the first state were no human would have to fear an elven arrow when venturing beyond the city walls. And elves and dwarves wouldn’t live in ghettos, or on reservations. First however, we have a battle to win. You know who we’re up against! It’s a splendid army, brave and well-lead, they cannot be scared off or routed, they have to be killed! I want Iorveth to sit at the same table as we do, I want him to kill Kaedweni for us, and I assure you that he’ll do so with a smile, if only you’d let him” 

“If I’m to see a smile on that skinny face”, Yarpen said and Iorveth had to hold himself back from sighing and rolling his eyes, “I’m in! Iorveth stays!”   
“Bloody hell, father’s turning in his grave”, the dragonslayer shook his head, “But a must’s a must, I say aye!”  
“Nay”, Stennis said, staring sternly at Iorveth.   
“You killed my men elf”, the noble next to Stennis pointed at him, “Remember them?”   
“If I hadn’t killed them, they’d killed me”, Iorveth said, looking at the noble with a narrowed eye.   
“All right”, the noble said, “For the sake of better times, and for Kaedwen’s doom, aye!”   
“Down with the son’s of bitches!” Zoltan roared, overly gesticulating as usual, “Cheers!” 

Saskia took her cup and lifted it up high in a cheer, _and drank_.

*

One moment, Signe and Ciaran was sitting at their now again pulled up table, a little bored and sipping on a brew, not really speaking but not really needing to. Waiting, was boring, but at least there was some fun in watching drunken dwarves staggering about, loitering drunk in a tavern in the middle of the day. Signe had lost count on how many times Ciaran had relighted his pipe, rinsed out the burned tobacco and pushed new in, but there was a nice comfort in the smell from his smoking. Both her father and John were smokers and to Signe, being around the elves when using tobacco, made her feel safe in a way few things here did.

Then, the door burst open and Iorveth followed by a handful of his Scoia’tael strode inside in quick steps.   
“ **Ciaran**!” Iorveth roared, making the whole inn fall silent and Ciaran almost jumped up from his seat, quickly walking over to Iorveth. Signe rose and followed, but stayed back.   
“What’s going on?” Ciaran asked, emptying his pipe on the edge of a table.   
“Saskia has been poisoned”, Iorveth seethed quietly through his teeth, “I need our best warriors guarding her”   
“I’m on it”, Ciaran nodded and left, taking four of the men following Iorveth with him and one staying.   
_Neave_ , Signe narrowed her eyes looking at the elf who still stared daggers at her. 

“Dh’oine”, Iorveth said, waving at her, “I need to meet up with the vatt’ghern and see if the sorceress has been able to stabilize her, come”   
Signe nodded and Neave huffed indignantly, Iorveth obviously ignoring the spat between his archer and Signe. Not that Signe actually _knew_ why Neave couldn’t even try and behave around her, but she tried to shrug it off. He only called her ‘bloede dh’oine whore’ now and again, and she supposed him quitting, would be all too much to ask. 

They walked through the town and stopped just outside a large building and Iorveth stopped in front of Geralt, listening. “She’s stopped using magic now”, he said and Geralt hummed.   
Then, the sorceress stepped out of the small door, closing it behind her. She started rambling on about strange concoctions and different herbs, things, that she needed cure Saskia. Some of it as bizarre as ‘royal blood’.   
Iorveth palmed his forehead, “We could use Letho about now”, and Geralt shot him a mean eye.   
“The nearest king are on the other side of the mist of wraiths”, Geralt looked serious, frowning.   
“You’re not seriously believing the blood of a royal will cure poison?” Signe said where she stood to the side, behind Iorveth. Philippa’s eyes fell on her, they were harsh and unapologetic. Signe stared back with her arms crossed over her chest.   
“And who are you, then?” the sorceress asked. Signe remained quiet, looking at Iorveth, who looked back over his shoulder at her. He nodded and she cocked an eyebrow.   
“Whatever”, Signe shrugged, “Drain the blood of thousand kings, I don’t care. You’re all mad in any case”   
Philippa huffed, narrowing her eyes. “It need not be the blood of a ruling monarch, it is the genotype contained in royal blood that is required”, and there Signe zoomed out, the whole conversation becoming all too absurd for her to even listen to it. She sighed, rubbing her temples before considering smashing her forehead into the wall beside her, but decided against it. A large bulking bruise on her forehead would win her no favours. 

Thankfully, Signe wasn’t the only one finding the whole thing a bit too colourful, “You’ll have her drink human blood?” Iorveth asked, in an almost shaking voice. It was obvious he was distressed and Signe wanted to comfort him somehow. She’d never really seen him in any other way but annoyed, angry or frustrated. He had smiled here and there, but he always wore that snarl on his lips. But not now. Signe frowned, walking up and touching Iorveth’s shoulder, he looked down at her with his good eye and for the second time, she truly saw his age. She squeezed his shoulder and his hand graced her hip in a hidden, light movement. Before she stepped back again. 

“No, I shall inject it, directly into her heart”, Philippa said calmly and Iorveth nodded. 

After going through several more things that the witcher and Iorveth needed to find, among them a rose from the elven garden that lay above the baths she and Iorveth had visited and something about Geralt running barefoot up a volcano, Philippa retreated inside again.   
“In that case, I shall search for the poison”, Iorveth said, grabbing Signe and left Geralt, who made his way in the opposite direction.

*


	16. Curses and Execrations and Yearnings

Beauty is a curse, Signe’s mother had said once and Signe had never thought of it in that way then. She knew she was beautiful and that her almost black hair in combination with dark blue eyes and pale skin, was uncommon and slightly exotic – it had always made her stand out, along with her light, but still curvaceous body and large bosom. According to her father, she had inherited her looks mostly from her paternal grandmother, but the eyes, they came from the Swedish side of the family, as her father had greyish-green eyes. Signe had never met her paternal grandmother, she had died in childbirth when her father was sixteen years old and there were no photographs of her – at least none that had survived so that she could see them.   
Signe’s mother had been, and still was, a classic beauty, with her thick blonde curls and blue eyes, perk thin nose and small, thin lips. Her mother had sharp features that still remained utterly female, whilst Signe’s features were more rounded and heart shaped. John had always claimed that she looked a lot like Linda Darnell in Star Dust. Signe supposed he wasn’t all that inaccurate, they did share a lot of similarities, both in body shape and when it came to facial features. 

Signe’s mother had encouraged her to pursue a career in acting, just like she herself had, but Signe hadn’t been very interested in going into the theatre- and movie business, having grown up with it, she felt she wanted to do something else completely, though she hadn’t quite figured it out. John had been born into a wealthy family, allowing him to pursue his own interests, without having to worry about money. Her marriage to him, allowed her the same freedom and so she focused on her writing. She wrote essays for underground magazines in Stockholm, as well as wrote novels and short-stories, while John was able to make money off of his music.   
When they married, John’s parents had, as a wedding gift, bought them an apartment in central Stockholm, close to the large national theatre, Dramaten. The apartment was large and Signe had her own room where she would spend much of her time, writing and contemplating. During the weekends, but also, of course during the weekdays, John would take her out to every kind of different happenings. They would often end up in Operakällaren, a restaurant that had been in the same location in the King’s Garden in Stockholm since the 18th century, drinking champagne and chatting with their friends. 

To say that Signe had lived a good life, would not be an understatement. But, if she were to believe in any kind of curses, which she of course didn’t, seeing as she was a modern woman, after all, but _if_ she would, she’d believe beauty was a curse. Perhaps one of the worst ones, as well. 

Iorveth had taken her to an old friend of his that lived in Vergen, an Aen Seidhe couple that used to be Scoia’tael, but had fallen with child and therefore needed to focus on that, instead of the Scoia’tael’s fight. Apparently, Signe learned, that it was difficult for the Aen Seidhe to have children, they were only fertile whilst young – especially women – and therefore, falling with child was something highly valuable. Signe wondered for how long they were fertile, still worrying about becoming pregnant, but she didn’t dare to ask, thinking it might come off as strange. She could ask Iorveth at a later time, when they were alone.   
The couple, was surprisingly kind to her and she helped the woman with the cooking, whilst Iorveth disappeared in search of what could have poisoned Saskia. There was really no use in Signe coming with him, since she’d only slow him down. She couldn’t fight for her life, the closest she came, was punches and slaps, a kick every now and again – but wielding a sword? Using a bow? Absolutely not. 

Whilst staying with the couple, Signe also learned that Aen Seidhe children, were about the cutest she’d ever seen in her life. They had huge eyes and perky features, with small pointed ears and silky hair that flew all over the place. The couple had a daughter and she was a stubborn little thing, but ever so curious about Signe, noticing the difference in their ears and wanting to touch and examine, never seizing to ask _why_ there was any difference at all. Signe didn’t know the answer to her question, and neither did her parents, really, but Signe smiled to the girl either way, chasing her around the tiny garden behind the house. 

When the evening turned to night, Signe called it a day and walked to the upper floor and closed herself inside the room the couple had given her. It had a real bed, not a cot – not a heap of hay – a _real_ bed, as well as a hearth keeping the room warm and cosy. A basin filled with warm water stood on the floor and Signe decided to wash up, she desperately needed it. The water smelled of some kind of oil with herbs, citrus and lavender and as she stroked her naked skin with the wet cloth, she almost purred at the clean feeling. Her body’s own disgusting odours washed away and when she lay down between the lightly brown-grey sheets in the bed, she felt wonderful.   
She roused less than an hour later, from her door closing and she peaked up, to see Iorveth undressing. He unclutched the many clasps on his armour, pulled off layer after layer, uncaringly dropping each piece of clothing on the floor. His swords, bow and knives, he’d but in a neat pile on the floor, however. 

When he’d gotten all of his clothes off, as well as the bandana, he strode naked – in all his beauty – over to the basin and washed his face. Signe smile and Iorveth looked her way, looking slightly surprised to meet her eyes.   
“Sorry if I woke you”, he whispered. The house was quiet and the small family they stayed with had probably gone to bed as well. Sound travelled easily through the thin wooden walls, as she could still hear the small girl asking her parent’s question after question.   
“It’s all right”, Signe smiled, blushing slightly at his nakedness. He was amazingly beautiful. She’d never really seen a man with more defined, lean muscles in her life. It was obvious Iorveth did live a hard life, as his body had no subcutaneous fat what so ever. He was lithe, but still broad shouldered. His hip-bones standing out and forming a v-shape down to his crotch. She’d never seen him completely nude before and she just couldn’t take her eyes off of him. 

“Are you going to stare like that while I wash up?” he said, casting her a glance with his good eye, and Signe smiled, lying back down as he turned from her, washing the rest of his body.   
Then he casually walked over to the bed, but not before picking up a knife and tucking it in under the mattress. He lay down and Signe turned to face him, he reached out and tucked a few escaped strands of hair behind her ear.   
“How did it go, did you find anything?” Signe asked and Iorveth sighed, frowning as he shook his head.   
“I’ll continue tomorrow, I would have continued searching, but I…”, he closed his eye, seeming just as distressed as before, “I felt like I was about to collapse from exertion”  
“You need to rest as well, Iorveth”, Signe said and stroked his chest, “Try to relax, or else you’ll wear yourself out”   
"Believe me”, Iorveth almost growled, his voice falling so deep, “I’ve survived worse”   
“Oh, I don’t doubt that”, Signe said and lay her head down on her pillow, closing her eyes, “I might doubt a lot about you, but I don’t doubt that”   
Iorveth huffed, sighing deeply and then yawning, “I hope you don’t get offended by me falling asleep”  
Signe looked at him, “How would that offend me? You need your sleep” 

Iorveth turned his head and looked at her, giving her a small smirk, then leaned in and kissed her deeply, “I’ll make it up to you, dh’oine”   
“Go to sleep, you elven barbarian”, Signe said and kissed him back, sucking on his lower lip. Iorveth groaned slightly, but then a yawn took him over completely. 

Signe fell asleep quickly and slept more sound than she’d done since arriving in this world, tucked close to Iorveth’s broad and warm back, her cheek pressed against one of his shoulder blades and her arm wrapped around his chest.

*

Every town has a brothel and there’s at least one Aen Seidhe male whore, servicing both males and females with enough coin. Luckily for Neave, he had coin.  
The scrawny man between his thighs with his cock in his mouth, looked nothing like Iorveth, but when Neave closed his eyes, he could imagine it was Iorveth’s lips wrapped around his dick. Not that Iorveth had ever done that to Neave, it was always Neave who was the ‘female’, when they fucked. Iorveth had never even wanted a finger up his arse, no matter Neave’s insistence that it made everything he did so much better and more pleasurable. Sometimes Neave believed Iorveth didn’t like men in that way, but it was obvious he could kiss and fuck men, and so it didn’t have anything to do with him not swinging both ways.  
Perhaps, Neave had thought, it was more about Iorveth not wanting to be the female part of anything. How one _ever_ could view two men fucking as anything close to something female, to begin with, Neave had no idea. However, it was a common thing he’d learned, that men who preferred men, were viewed as feminine. It was more common with humans to have those kind of notions, but the Aen Seidhe had them too. And don’t even mention the dwarves, Neave thought as he moaned silently when the whore curled a finger in his arse, hitting that perfect spot, milking his cock with his lips.

The thought of touching Iorveth's crimson bandana, stroking his silky hair and looking down, seeing his deeply forest green eye peek up at him, with Neave’s cock between his lips as his head bobbed up and down, it made Neave feel an orgasm coming along, the ache in his lower abdomen, his balls tightening and his breath hitching as all his muscles became tense.   
_Oh, fucking fuck, Iorveth_ , he moaned in his mind, but thankfully, those words stayed in his mind, not escaping through his parted lips as he gasped, spilling his seed inside the whore’s mouth. 

Looking down on the skinny whore beneath him, Neave came back to reality and the relaxed expression he’d gotten from the orgasm, disappeared quickly.   
He threw the coin he owed at the whore before he left, walking out of the brothel with a frown and then climbing over the city walls and making his way back to the camp, no less relaxed than he’d been before.

*

When Signe woke up, Iorveth was gone.  
She patted the space beside her in the bed, finding it cold. He must have been away for quite some time, she thought as she yawned. Of course, with Saskia poisoned, if was obvious Iorveth wouldn’t be able to rest for too long. A sharp string of jealousy went through Signe as she thought about Iorveth’s almost overly-protectiveness towards the blonde woman, and the way he looked at her, how his eye became soft and worried. She frowned, sitting up and tousling her hair, yawning again as she stretched her arms up, waking her body up.

When she opened her eyes, she was met by dark brown hues, looking directly at her naked upper body, her arms stretched out above her head. The smile belonging to the man causally leaned against the shelf just next to the door, made her withdraw her arms instantly, covering her chest.   
“Elias”, Signe hissed and the man smirked, sauntering over to the bed where she sat, his hair falling into his face and his pale skin shining slightly pinkish in the morning glow shining in from the window, the sun bright and crisp.   
“You’re just doing that to annoy me, aren’t you, dh’oine?” his voice spoke in a low murmur.   
“Where’s Iorveth?” Signe asked, pulling the cover up over her body as Ele’yas sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her with his lower lip caught by his teeth.   
“Away”, he said, reaching out and touching a thick lock of her hair that fell down from her shoulder, over her chest. “I do understand what he sees in you, beann’shie. You’re a blath, a blath aep blathanna, esseath folié aenye que spar’le me kusse. A deith aep blathanna”, Ele’yas murmured, looking at her with intensity in his dark eyes. He looked predatory from where he sat and Signe stared at him, her large eyes wide with, fear? Confusion? She didn’t even want to know what he said, what that _meant_. She’d learned that by know – ignorance of what the Aen Seidhe said, was often better than actually understanding. 

After a silenced filled only with eye contact, Signe cleared her throat, “So, why are you here then?”  
“Guard duty”, he gave her a sly smile.   
“I’m sure Iorveth didn’t tell you to come _inside_ my room”, she narrowed her eyes.   
“You mean your _shared_ room?” Ele’yas chuckled, stroking a finger up her shin peeking out from under the cover.   
Signe shot him a mean eye, huffing. Ele’yas shrugged, “There’s no need for you to pretend with me, dh’oine”, he said, sighing, “I won’t hurt you. I’m loyal to Iorveth, after all. If he wishes to take a whore for himself, I’ll not stop him”   
“You've got a filthy mouth, you know that?” Signe spat silently.   
It made Ele’yas grin wide, looking at her lips, “Not as filthy as yours, I’m sure”  
“Get out!” Signe hissed, kicking at him with her foot. Ele’yas grabbed her foot, holding it in his spider-like hands, stroking her ankle and looking up at her.   
“I’ve never quite laid eyes on a dh’oine like you before, all smooth skin, perfect curves and a waist slim as a wasp's”, he said, letting his thumb run over her tendons, “A succubus’ got nothing on you, beann’shie”   
“ _Get. Out_ ”, Signe seethed and Ele’yas let go of her foot, holding his hands up.   
“All right then, be feisty”, he huffed with a smirk, “They’re making breakfast downstairs”, he said, cocking his head, “Why don’t you join them? I’ll wait for you right outside. Get dressed, dh’oine, and we’ll find something interesting to entertain ourselves with during the day” 

Signe wanted to spit after him, as he sauntered out, just as nonchalantly as he had walked up to her in the first place.   
_Breakfast_ , however, sounded nice. As well as some company. Ele’yan couldn’t fucking try anything as long as she avoided being alone with that arse.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beann’shie - Siren  
> A blath, a blath aep blathanna, esseath folié aenye que spar’le me kusse – A flower, a flower of flowers, you are a frantic fire that attack ones genitals. A flame of flowers


	17. The Plot Thickens

Ele’yas sat down beside her at the small table, along with the family. His expression was neutral and he spoke with the family in a familiar way, obvious they had all met before. The man and Ele’yas spoke of shared battles and fights, things Signe couldn’t relate to, at all.  
Signe, remained quiet as she stirred her porridge around, having declined the ale offered and instead ate it without anything else. It was bland, but tasted slightly different from the porridge Anezka made, or the one Signe her self had learned to make. It had a coarser texture, perhaps it was common among the Aen Seidhe to mix in buckwheat in their porridge? When cooked in a clean pot, it gave the porridge a slightly rounder, more appetizing taste, Signe thought as she tasted it slightly.  
Ele’yas looked at her with a side-wide glance and she caught his eye. 

“I must ask”, the woman in the family said after a while, “Iorveth didn’t say, but why are you traveling with a dh’oine?”  
Ele’yas smirked, looking again at Signe, then turning to look at the woman. “I can’t discuss that, I’m afraid”, he said and the woman frowned, turning to look a Signe.  
Signe didn’t say anything, nor show any kind of emotion on her face – instead she looked down on her porridge, swirling it around. 

She wanted to leave. At the same time, she wanted and felt like she needed to be close to Iorveth, but she couldn’t simply shrug her jealousy and her qualms about him either. The way he looked at Saskia, it wasn’t just as a friend concerned about another friend, or a future Queen. He looked at her, like a concerned lover.  
And then there was Ele’yas, the bastard. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? His searching eyes always upon her, smirking and ogling. Of course, she’d noticed his beauty, but few of the elves would even begin to resemble what Signe viewed as unattractive. She knew, that to humans, elves and their sharp, fine features, was attractive, most all of them. But she found herself not caring all too much about it – sure, she wouldn’t deny Ele’yas beauty, but his actions made her back away. They turned him ugly, somehow.  
Iorveth, with his broken face and constant snarl of hate, was different. It added to his attractiveness and Signe found herself wanting him even more, even though the jealousy cut through her like a sharp, infesting knife that turned whenever she thought about how Iorveth had looked at Saskia, ignoring Signe who got whisked off by Ele’yas. 

But she couldn’t escape, could she? Vergen was surrounded by wraiths, living dead corpses and only that strange sodding sorceress’ magic kept them safe within the walls. Where would she go? Vergen wasn’t large, and if she tried to leave – Ele’yas, Iorveth or Ciaran would only have to look for about an hour of two, before they found her and dragged her back into the small room. And what would Iorveth say?  
He did keep her with him, for a reason, occasionally called her ‘little dove’ or ‘my love’ – but did he really mean it? Yes, she thought he did. But at other times, she doubted, just as she doubted so many other things about the commander. 

Her thought fell to the blue-stripes commander, Vernon. She hoped he was fine, she’d felt bad for leaving him in the woods – but Iorveth had more or less dragged her away. Had he survived?  
And what about Anezka? Was she all right?  
Was there a way for her to send her a letter of some kind? Did they even have a postal service here? 

“Elias?” she asked quietly. She knew her mispronunciation of his name annoyed him, and a part of her liked doing it, just to spite him. But at the same time, she had difficulty pronouncing it correctly, as it sounded just like ‘Elias’, but with a slight hitch in the middle of the name and a round ‘ya’-sound followed by a 'sh'-sound she couldn’t quite pronounce right. She knew it was supposed to be Élli’àya’sh – but ‘Elias’ was just easier.  
Ele’yas frowned and looked at her, not even bothering to correct her anymore, “Hm?” he hummed.  
“I would like to send someone a letter, is that possible?” Signe asked and the others around the table quieted, except for the little girl, using her porridge as some kind of dough to build a porridge-castle with in her bowl. 

“Nothing’s getting in or out of Vergen just now, dh’oine”, Ele’yas said, pouring more ale into his bowl.  
“But, when the vatt’ghern and the sorceress have taken care of the wraiths, it’s possible?” Signe asked and Ele’yas nodded, sighing.  
“I suppose so”, he said and the man in the small family nodded agreeing.  
“There are couriers you can pay to have letters delivered to most places, up north and even as far as to Nilfgaard”, he man said.  
Signe nodded and looked at Ele’yas again, “Could you help me write a letter, I can’t…”, she sighed, “I haven’t learned to write”  
“You can’t write?” Ele’yas looked at her with a scowl and Signe shook her head carefully, “Who are you sending it to?” he asked.  
“Anezka”, she said, “The woman I lived with in Lobinden. I just want to make sure she’s all right”  
Ele’yas thought for a moment, but then nodded once, “We’ll see”, he said and Signe turned back to her bowl, going quiet again. 

If she could only find a way to leave, to get back to Lobinden, to Anezka. Her body ached from the thought of leaving Iorveth. But, why? She didn’t love him. She liked him, enjoyed him, enjoyed the electrical spark she felt whenever he was near, how it made her heart jump and her lower abdomen send jolts of aching arousal through her body. She'd felt drawn to him and had since the first time she met him, even through surprise and fear, even when eventually anger had taken over her. But she knew, within herself, she couldn’t stay here – like a prisoner constantly guarded and kept away from what Iorveth viewed as dangers, like a precious gem he didn’t want to let go of. He protected her, yes – but at what cost? 

She looked to Ele’yan with narrowed eyes. Iorveth didn’t know of Ele’yan’s intentions, but Signe knew well enough, the way he looked at her, the vulgar gestures he did, the things he _said_. She didn’t understand all the things he said in Elder Speech, but she could understand the gist of it. Disgusting.  
But still, Iorveth left her in Ele’yan’s charge, unknowing of the threat he posed to Signe. But would Ele’yan actually _do_ anything? Or was it all just idle threats? Why hadn’t Iorveth asked Tir to guard her instead? She liked Tir – she even liked Ciaran a bit as well, even though he remained sardonic and drawn back, not speaking much. But, not speaking and a sour expression of hatred was preferable to the perverted and sexual innuendos Ele’yas kept making. 

Signe shook her head, frowning. She wanted to go _home_.

*

_Two days earlier_  
“Damn! He’s made a mockery out of us! If this is how Iorveth wants to play, I’ll make him regret it”, Vernon roared, his face bruised and his body aching, but he ignored it, as he spat and drove his fists into the thick oak desk in front of him. “But to the point”, he sighed, “The Witcher has joined Iorveth, they’re in Vergen. Loredo, the _fine_ commandant”, Vernon said with sarcasm in his voice, “Had a deal with Kaedwen, the merchant living in his house was Henselt’s agent. For a pouch of gold, the commandant promised to support Kaedwen troops in case of a conflict. Unfortunately, when that sod burned the entire port down, he fled and the spy with him”  
Ves, stood with her arms crossed over her chest, sneering.

“Now, listen very carefully”, Vernon said to his men gathered around the table, “I’m not repeating this. We have two targets, the first is a Kaedweni spy, Arnolt Malliger – I want him alive. The other is Bernard Loredo, the trading-post commander and a traitor to Temeria, we don’t let his kind live. However, we need to go after them both. I don’t care where Loredo’s hiding or if that fucking limped dicked traitorous elf, _Iorveth_ has anything to do with his escape. It wouldn’t fucking surprise me, sacrificing his own kind to gain yet another favour in this bloody war. Find Loredo, I don’t care where – he has to have a place to sleep, shit and wank off to the memory of his precious statuettes of she-elves. Wherever Loredo has gone off to, it wouldn’t surprise me if we catch an elf within close proximity. Any question?” 

The silence spoke for itself, and Vernon looked at each and every one of his men gathered. Ves, still twitchy from what had happened in Flotsam, the escape of not only the kingslayer and Iorveth, but Geralt allying himself with the lowest of persons, a terrorist, mass murderer and a hater of humans, Iorveth.  
“Prepare the boat, we sail immediately”, Vernon ordered. 

 

Vernon paced, walking the deck, looking around in the darkness surrounding them as they sailed east, up towards Vergen and the Pontar Valley. The _girl_ that had saved him, had been with Iorveth in the forest. Why? Iorveth had spoken to her, seemingly protecting her. Vernon had visited the hut with a few of his men, where she had taken him in and bandaged him up, but the witch there had known nothing. He considered taking her in and subjecting her to torture, but he was in a hurry – he knew Iorveth was up to something and he needed to know what.  
When he got word about Geralt sailing off with the elf, Vernon had lost it, almost beating one of his men to a pulp in anger. That goddamned witcher. _Fuck_. Letting Foltest die at the hands of another witcher, of course. A witcher, they now knew Iorveth had hired. They were all traitors, the lot of them.  
And that _girl_ , the human girl, somehow, was caught up in it all. A human amongst the Scoia’tael? Or was she a half-breed? She didn’t look like one, but Vernon knew all too well, that half-breeds could look either very human, or very elven – so it was hard to tell. But why had she helped him, that night? And it was obvious Iorveth knew about it, but still he kept the girl with him? 

Vernon shook his head, reaching up and rubbing his temples. What was it he was missing? Something was dodgy, but he couldn’t put his fucking finger on it. _Damn_ , he shook his head. What a fucking cluster-fuck.

*

Walking up towards the King’s camp, Vernon had brought only Ves with him. His steps were determined and he easily saw the man standing guard, was none other than Zyvik, clad in their usual ugly colours with strange furry hats on their heads. He’d never understand Kaedweni customs or their fashion, Vernon shook his head as he approached.

“Hey! Halt!” Zyvik shouted, pointing his crossbow at Vernon and Ves. Vernon stopped, holding Ves back with a grip to her arm.  
“What’s with you?” Vernon shouted, holding his hand up, “Booze made you batty? Don’t you recognize me?”  
“I’ll be ploughed and damned”, Zyvik said, “Why the hell are you here, Roche?”  
“Easy lads”, Vernon approached slowly, Ves following him carefully. “I desperately need to see your King”  
“You’re in for a wait then, mister special mission knight”, Zyvik rambled, “Don’t move!” he shouted, looking up into the sky, seeing it darken. He looked at the guard standing beside him, “Go get the sergeant”  
“There’s no need for that Zyvik. Where’d you say the King was?” Roche asked.  
“Out in the fields somewhere negotiating”, he answered with a frown, getting nervous from the sky shifting. 

Roche looked up, noticing the darkness creep closer and over them, and he frowned, looking at Ves. “What the fuck?” Vernon said, staring again up at the sky. “Ves! We need to find Henselt!” Vernon shouted and grabbed Ves, running up the hills, towards the fields hidden among the vast rocks and hills. 

 

After searching along the roads, they finally came upon a large tent and Vernon saw the King himself, Henselt, fighting off what looked like undead soldiers, his mages and Dethmold casting spells. Vernon and Ves helped fight off the retched corpses and eventually, Dethmold was able to cast a shielding spell around them, “Stay close to me!” he shouted and they could progress. When they reached the camp, Henselt ordered Dethmond and the sorceress to follow him, Vernon quickly strode up to him.  
“Sire, I must request an audience”, Vernon said.  
“Later, I’ll see my mages first”, Henselt answered and Roche’s jaw tightened and he could feel himself twitch. 

Zyvik meet them at the gate and escorted Vernon and Ves inside the camp. They walked through smaller camps within the larger camp itself, hurt soldiers bunched up in one place, others eating in another. Then they walked by a tree with a moaning, hurt elf bound against it.  
“See him, Roche?” Zyvik said, “Loosen his bounds a bit and he's liable to jump at your throat like a rabid mutt”  
“One of Iorveth’s Scoia’tael?” Vernon asked, looking at the raven haired elf, hanging from his bonds, bruised and bleeding. His nose was crushed and his eyes dimmed, the lids hanging and spit dripping from his opened mouth as he moaned in pain. “How did you capture him?”  
“Scouts found him wounded in the ravines”, Zyvik answered, “Someone massacred a small unit, the boy said it was a blood bath, as if the reaper just swung his scythe right through them. Whoever attacked them was very strong”  
“Any idea who it might have been?” Vernon asked, looking at the elf, frowning.  
“No, but if they manage to ambush elves in the wild, I’d rather not meet them”, Zyvik scoffed.  
“Right”, Vernon nodded. 

 

Eventually, the Blue-Stripes were allowed to put up camp inside Henselt’s boarders, and wasn’t Vernon surprised, when the White Wolf appeared inside his tent, looking at him expressionless. Vernon stomped up to him with force, his hand on the hilt of the sword he had hanging from his hip. 

“What the hell are you doing here? Here to spy on me, for Iorveth? Henselt? Radovid? What’s your _game_ , witcher?” Vernon spat.  
“I just so happens we have common aims”, the witcher said in his calm, emotionless voice, “But don’t worry, observing Vernon Roche isn’t one of them”  
“Then perhaps killing me is another, you damned traitor”, Vernon hissed, taking a step up against the massive build of the witcher.  
“It is not”, Geralt said, looking at him.  
“Well then, to what do I owe this _pleasure_?” Vernon seethed sarcasticly.  
“What are you doing here, Vernon?” Geralt asked.  
“Nothing”, Vernon shrugged, no point in telling the witcher too much, instead, play the ignorant ploy and see how that turns out, “Like everyone else, I’m waiting and seeing how things unfold. My people are combing the area for Letho, who seems to have vanished. There’s nothing else I can do at the moment”, stroking his chin, “How about you, Geralt? Why have you come here, _really_?” 

“Oh, I’m busy as always”, the witcher shrugged, looking around, “First off, I need to lift this fog, and also – I’ve come to tell you, there’s been an attempt to Saskia’s life”  
“I see”, Vernon answered, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the witcher, “It would surprise me if Iorveth sent you to tell me that”  
“Coincidence”, Geralt twisted his lips, “Our interests happened to align”  
“Hm”, Vernon scoffed, “What interest may you have in tracking down this plot?”  
“I get the feeling it’s all linked, everything”, Geralt sighed, narrowing his feline eyes, “If I can’t get to the bottom of this _plot_ , I might never find Triss and without her, I can’t recover my past”  
Vernon nodded, “Say, witcher”, he said, “Why help Iorveth?”  
Geralt shrugged, “It seemed best at the time”  
“Perhaps you could aid me in answering a query”, Vernon gesticulated towards the witcher, “A human woman, seen with Iorveth. Raven hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Could be a half-breed, but I don’t believe she is. Have you seen her?”  
“Hm”, Geralt nodded, “Yes. I don’t know of her definite relationship to Iorveth or his Socia’tael, but she’s an anomaly”  
“In what way? And why is she with them?” Vernon pressed him.  
“She’s sharing Iorveth’s bed”, Geralt said, “I don’t know more than that, other than that he keeps her on a short leash”  
“She’s a sorceress?” Vernon asked, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.  
“I don’t believe so, but there’s something strange about her. Do you know her?”  
“No”, Vernon answered, his face twitching, “You should leave, witcher, before I have you arrested again”  
“Thanks for the talk”, Geralt said and turned, walking out of his tent. 

The girl was Iorveth’s mistress? Fucking hell, Vernon thought and shook his head. 

*


	18. A Song From Back Home

“Wenn mal mein Herz… Unglücklich liebt, ist es vor Kummer unsagbar betrübt”, Signe sang quietly to herself as she walked the town of Vergen with Ele’yas behind her. “Dann denk’ ich immer, alles ist aus, ich bin so allein. Wo ist ein Mensch, der mich versteht?”  
“What language is that, dh’oine?” Ele’yas caught up with her, walking beside her.  
“It’s called German”, she said. “You don’t recognize it?”  
Ele’yas huffed, “No”, and Signe shrugged. 

“So hab ich manchmal von Sehnsucht gefleht”, she almost murmured the lyrics to the song, sang by Zarah Leander, for the Germans, just when the war had turned and the allied forces gained the upper hand 1942. Signe thought it was suiting, when struggling against a too large enemy, the meaning of the song. The world's not going under. She still couldn’t believe the atrocities the Germans were accused of – many of her and John’s friends had supported the National Socialists in Germany. It was still widespread within the Swedish upper-class, to support Hitler, hell, even the King supported him. “Tja! Aber dann, gewöhnt man sich dran, und man sieht es ein”, Signe sang loudly with a smile filled with memories, and twirled around, making Ele’yas stop, watching her. She looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes and smiled, “Davon geht die Welt nicht unter! Sieht man sie manchmal auch grau! Einmal wird sie wieder bunter, einmal wird sie wieder himmelblau!” 

“Stop”, Ele’yas took hold of her arm with a scowl on his face, “You sound like a Nilfgaardian”  
Signe looked up at him, “They speak German?”  
“What are you talking about, dh’oine?” Ele’yas frowned.  
“You said you didn’t recognize the language?” Signe said and jerked her arm free from his grip.  
“I don’t”, he said, “But it sounds slightly similar to how those swine speak”  
“Whatever!” Signe shrugged with a smile, “It’s a beautiful song, pity you don’t understand the lyrics”  
“Why do you speak a language so similar to the Nilfgaardian one?” Ele’yas said and grabbed her again, “Is that where you’re from?”  
“Let go of me, Elias!” Signe spat, pulling her arm, but Ele’yas held her in a tight grip, not willing to let go. 

“Let her go, Ele’yas”, a calm voice rang through the buzzle of the streets and both Ele’yas and Signe turned to see the large frame of Geralt, the vatt’ghern approach them. 

“Vatt’ghern”, Ele’yas said and released Signe from his grip. She pulled her arm close to her and stroked it, glaring daggers at Ele’yas.  
“Where’s Iorveth?” Geralt asked Ele’yas, peeking slightly at Signe.  
“Still searching for the poison, I suppose”, Ele’yas shrugged.  
The witcher nodded, “And you don’t know about his whereabouts?”  
“No, Gwynbleidd”, Ele’yas said and shrugged, “So, was there anything else you wanted?”  
The witcher looked at Signe, up and down then seemed to be considering something for a while, “I might need to speak with you, woman”  
“Why’s that?” Ele’yas asked.  
“None of your business, elf”, Geralt said.  
Signe looked at the vatt’ghern, wondering why he’d want to speak with her in the first place, then she looked at Ele’yas. “If he wants to talk to me, I’d like to hear what he has to say”, she said.  
“Out of the question”, Ele’yas said, cutting through the air in front of him with his hand.  
“I don’t believe you have that kind of power”, the vatt’ghern said, narrowing his yellow eyes and staring at Ele’yas. “I helped you”, his hoarse deep voice said and Ele’yas eyes narrowed.  
“Iorveth wanted me to guard her”, Ele’yas said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“And Iorveth knows me, I’m helping him as well, I don’t think he’d mind if I took a moment, speaking to this woman”, Geralt said. 

Ele’yas sighed, then held his hands up, “Fine, talk, whatever” 

 

Signe followed the witcher, so they could talk privately, he frowned as he looked down on her. He certainly looked like a man, a large, tall man, with long white hair and a straight nose. He had stubble on his cheeks just as white as his hair and his eyes were so strange, emotionless and split like that of a cat’s.  
“So”, he said, “Do you know a man named Vernon Roche?”  
“Know of”, Signe said, her hands resting on her hips, “I don’t know him”  
“He asked about you”, the witcher said, “Why would he do that?”  
“How would I know? I don’t know him, as I said”  
“I don’t suppose you know that him and Iorveth aren’t and never have been on… Hm, well, the best of terms?”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t begin to understand why”, Signe rolled her eyes. “Why are you talking to me?”  
“Are you a prisoner?” he asked, looking at her with a serious expression. Well, how about that, almost straight to the point.  
“Depends on how you see it”, Signe answered.  
“You’re not Iorveth’s mistress, then?” he asked and Signe couldn’t help the laugh escaping her throat.  
“Christ, I wouldn’t put it in those words”  
“How would you put it?”  
“That’s personal”, Signe said, defensively. 

The vatt’ghern nodded, “I can help you get out of here”  
“And why, pray tell, would you do that?” Signe asked, lowering her voice.  
Geralt frowned, “I have my reasons”  
“I bet you do”  
“Hm”, he nodded slowly. “It’s up to you. It’s now, or I won’t be able to help you for quite some time”  
“Where would you bring me?” Signe asked, looking carefully at the large man.  
“To Roche, he’s in Henselt’s camp”  
“I don’t know who Henselt is, but what I don’t understand is why you would do this. You don’t know me, to begin with. And, what do you get from this?”  
“As I said, I have my reasons”, Geralt crossed his arms over his chest. 

Signe thought for a moment. Had Vernon asked the witcher to bring her to him? If he had, why? So he could arrest her, seeing as he’d seen her in the company of Iorveth. It all smelled so foul, Signe frowned and shook her head.  
“I can’t”, she said, looking at Geralt, “But thank you for the offer. Tell Vernon thank you”  
“What for?” Geralt asked, a glint of something in his eye.  
Signe didn’t say anything at first, only smiled at the witcher, “My loyalty, lies with Iorveth. Va fail, Gwynbleidd”  
“Good bye”, Geralt nodded. Signe turned and walked away from the vatt’ghern, walking over to Ele’yas. 

“What did he want?” Ele’yas asked and Signe looked back over her shoulder at the witcher, leaving.  
“Iorveth needs to know the Gwynbleidd can’t be trusted”, Signe said, narrowing her eyes and Ele’yas nodded.

*

Iorveth sat by Saskia’s side, his head in his hands as his eyebrows were drawn tightly together. He tried to think, but nothing came to his mind. He’d found nothing, nothing that could help her and he’d been sitting here at her side for most of the evening. It seemed probable that he’d sleep here as well, he simply couldn’t leave her. It was his duty to look after her, make sure she survived. She was truly his only hope, the Scoia’tael’s only hope.

The door opened behind him and he peeked over his shoulder to see Signe walk in with Ele’yas in her heels. Her long hair bounced with every step she took and her rounded, almost heart-shaped face was rosy from the cold outside. She was dressed in her dark leather trousers, a white shift tucked into the trousers and her midnight blue coat, hanging open and showing her breast band underneath the knots of her shift.  
She wore different boots, these ones in dark leather and reaching up over her knees – her legs reached for miles as she strode into the room, before stopping in front of the bed, simply looking at Saskia. Iorverth watched her in silence, as she walked up and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning down and kissing him on the lips. 

Iroveth frowned, but didn’t pull back, then he kissed her, responding to her lips, until she withdrew. He looked at her, ignoring Ele’yas who stood leaned against the wall in a corner close to the door. Signe looked like a queen where she stood, this time, towering over him as he sat at Saskia’s side and he turned his gaze to where Signe’s were; at Saskia.  
Signe walked around him, moving to stand close to Saskia’s head, leaning down slightly and touching her forehead.  
“She’s got a fever”, Signe said quietly, “She’s burning up. Why aren’t you cooling her down? She’ll burn up if she’s not cooled down”  
“We’re waiting for Philippa to be able to make the transfusion”, Iorveth said darkly, shaking his head.  
“You can’t simply inject new blood into someone’s heart”, Signe said, “I don’t care if she’s a human, dragon or whatever, it’ll kill her”  
“How do you know?” Iorveth looked at her, reaching out and grasping her hand. He looked sad, distressed and all too tired. 

“It’s common knowledge”, she said, “Where I’m from. You can’t simply transfer blood without it being the right kind of blood, the same blood type, or one that matches your own. And you do it through a vein, not straight into the heart. I can only imagine it would damage the heart, doing so”  
“Hm”, Iorveth shook his head, “Philippa isn’t a surgeon, but she knows what she’s doing”  
“I certainly hope so”, Signe said, turning to Iorveth and reaching out, touching the hair that stuck out from under his bandana. “Elias?” Signe looked at the Aen Seidhe standing by the door, “Could you send for someone to bring ice cold water and a cloth, please?”  
Ele’yas narrowed his eyes, but nodded and left the room. 

“You know it’s pronounced ‘Ele’yas’, yes?” Iorveth looked at her and she nodded with a mischievous smile.  
“I need to tell you something”, Signe said and crouched down beside Iorveth. He looked down on her, bringing his hand up to stroke her hair. “I met the vatt’ghern, the Gwynbleidd”, she said and rested her hand on one of his knees. “You can’t trust him, Iorveth”  
“Why do you say that, en’ca minne?” Iorveth looked at her with a query eye, obviously doubting her.  
“He offered to escort me to Vernon Roche”, she said in a silent voice and Iorveth’s hand on her hair pulled into a fist, hurting her.  
“ _What_?” Iorveth seethed.  
Signe nodded slowly, “I don’t think you should let him know I’ve told you. Perhaps, pretend not to know. Pretend that I’m not loyal to you and wishes to leave you, but don’t know how. He’s up to something”  
Iorveth’s mouth twitched and his eye watched her with intensity. “Do you wish to leave?” he asked after some silence.  
“I did”, Signe said, looking away from him. “But, I find myself unable to. Not for physical reasons, nor practical ones. But emotional”  
Iorveth drew a breath in, frowning. “I see”, he said, stroking his thumb over her lip. “I think I understand”  
“I hope you do”, she said, looking up at him, her large blue eyes watching him with almost a begging expression and Iorveth leaned down, catching her lips with his again. 

When the door opened behind them, Signe pulled away and stood up beside Iorveth, looking at Ele’yas and the servant who walked in, carrying a basin filled with water and ice.  
“Bathe her with the water”, Signe said, “Especially her forehead, make certain she doesn’t get too cold, it’s only to hold the fever down as much as possible”  
The servant nodded and set to work, stroking the wet cloth on Saskia’s arms, chest and face, every now and again touching her skin to feel her temperature. 

“I’ll take my leave for now”, Signe said and turned to Iorveth again and he looked up at her, reaching for her hand, “But, I felt you needed to know”  
Iorveth nodded, it was good she told him. The gods knew he’d been too quick to trust before when an opportunity fell into his lap, he’d learned it the hard way with Letho and he didn’t intend to repeat that mistake twice.  
“Also, I got the feeling the Gwynbleidd told Vernon”, she said and Iorveth frowned, not quite computing for a moment.  
“Know what?” he asked and she looked over at the servant, then back at him.  
She leaned down and whispered into his ear, “About us”, and Iorveth’s eye widened and he felt a coldness come over him, his stomach dropping. 

_Bloede d'yaebl_.

*


	19. Mobs of Screaming Dh’oine - part one

The dim, fiery light from the hearth made his skin glow, almost sparkling as Signe trailed kisses down his chest. He was so utterly beautiful where he lay in the bed, surrounded by the unbleached linen in the bed. Signe moved further down, kissing every scar she saw, as Iorveth’s breath sped up, a nip with her teeth into the taught muscle at his hip had him take a sharp breath as his fingers raked through her hair, keeping the raven locks from falling into her face.  
She peeked up at him, the left side of his face still hellishly ghoulish – but she didn’t mind. The right side looked down on her with a lidded eye. His eye dim from arousal and deeply emerald green, just like the perfectly coloured gemstone. 

Signe’s lips reached his scarce black pubic hair and she breathed in deep, taking in all his scents as her lips kissed and sucked on his skin. She wanted to bury her face in his musky scents and the soft hair around his hard length. She wetted her lips, dragging lightly against his erection, from the top down to his balls. She raked her nails down his thighs, which elicited a moan from Iorveth, his eyebrows pulled together and his lips slightly separated. She licked his balls, then blew some cold air on them, making them tighten and Iorveth chuckled slightly. Signe looked up at him with a smile, before she delved down, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around the top as she pulled his foreskin back with one of her hands, the other hand digging into his hip. Iorveth fisted a hand in her hair as she started bobbing her head, up and down, swallowing as much of his dick as she could.  
He was large, the largest she’d been with and she got half of it inside her mouth, before the head of his cock touched the back of her throat and she gagged. Iorveth snuck a hand behind her neck, pushing her lightly, but not forcing, as she kept sucking him, up and down, her tongue playing with the string under the head. He liked that, she noticed, as he groaned when she did so, grasping her hair tighter. 

Signe loved his smell, the muskiness mixed with sandalwood, earth and just a touch of sweat. That, along with his taste, the small amounts of pre-cum dripping out on her tongue as she jerked his cock while sucking carefully on his head with wetted lips as she stood leaned over on her knees between his legs. She could feel herself dripping with moistness and arousal, her body begging to be touched, pleasured – but she didn’t care, wouldn’t care, since she’d do anything to please Iorveth in that moment. Just to see that perfect snarl on his lips form into a curved moan. 

“Signe”, he breathed and she looked up, releasing his cock from between her lips with a small pop from the suction.  
“Yes, love?” she said, stroking his thighs, her nails raking his velvety skin lightly, feeling each small, dark hair under her fingertips.  
“Up”, he looked intensely at her, “ _Now_ ”, he almost growled, pushing her at the neck for her to move up.  
Signe rose and crawled up over him, straddling him at the waist and pressing herself down on his length, her own moistness covering his cock as she ground against him. Iorveth groaned and pulled her down to him, bringing their lips together in a heated kiss where he could taste himself on her lips.  
His hands stroked down her back, over her hips and to her arse, delighting in her curves and the fatness of her round arse as he squeezed her cheeks, pressing her down harder over him. Signe moaned and grounded faster, feeling his cock press against her clit as she rubbed against it. Iorveth’s hands steered her, made her go even faster and harder, before she felt her body starting to tighten as an orgasm made itself known. Her cunt clasped after something to fill it, that wasn’t there, but she rode out her orgasm anyway, moaning desperately against Iorveth’s lips. He reached a hand up, grabbing the back of her neck, keeping her close as her body convulsed in pleasure above him. 

When she leaned her forehead against his, panting, he reached to her cheek and kissed her deeply, before pushing her to the side and rising to stand above her.  
Iorveth looked down on her, his eye burning with a deep and almost primal fire and Signe gazed up on him from lidded eyes, deep blue shining in the dim light and her lower lip caught by her teeth. Her chest and cheeks were pink from her orgasm and Iorveth bent down, kissing her neck and then trailing kisses down over her chest, suckling on one nipple, which made her gasp and twitch.  
He grabbed her thick, beautiful thighs with skin like marble and pulled them up, kissing her shins and up to her foot. He brought one of her toes to his lips and sucking lightly on it. It made Signe giggle as she swatted him loosely with her foot. “Stop that, it’s tickling”, she smiled and Iorveth bit into her toe instead, earning him a harder swat from her foot. Then he dove down over her again, his hands pressing against her cheeks as he kissed her. Signe kissed back, sucking on his lower lip and stoking her tongue against his.  
When he pressed inside her, she held on to his lips with her own to dull out her moans. She didn’t want to wake the small family sleeping in the room next to them, but she couldn’t help making the noises she did, being penetrated by him. Just like the last time, it burned slightly the first few seconds, but as soon as he started to move, the burn changed into pleasure and Signe relaxed under him. Her orgasm had made her sensitive and the pleasure was overwhelming as he sheathed himself inside her, though careful not to hilt too deep inside her. 

As his movements became harder and faster, Signe grabbed a hold of his hair with one hand and his shoulder with another, pressing herself against him. Iorveth ground his lower abdomen against her, making circling movements to help her second orgasm on, and Signe pressed her lips against his throat, feeling the inked skin on her lips and pulling her legs further up, making Iorveth bottom out completely inside her as she ground herself against him.  
“I’m close”, she whispered in a breathy moan and Iorveth answered with a groan of his own, moving faster, more intensely against her.  
When her second orgasm overtook her, Iorveth’s movements became erratic and his whole body tensed over her and she could feel his cock pulsating as he spilled inside her. He caught her lips and their teeth clashed as they both breathed heavily, still twitching from their own orgasms. Signe held on to Iorveth as if her life depended on it as the last waves of pleasure ebbed out.  
Iorveth kissed her lips once more, then trailed kisses over her jawline, down her throat, while catching his breath. 

“Jesus Christ”, Signe breathed, chuckling slightly when Iorveth pulled out of her and lay beside her, both staring up into the ceiling.  
“What does that mean?” he panted, turning his head to look at her.  
Signe laughed slightly, “It’s ah… Well, the son of our god. In my world”  
“Your god? What’s your god’s name then?” Iorveth smirked.  
“Well… He’s only called god. And his son, Jesus, is a part of him – as a god”, Signe tried to explain. She hadn’t exactly been a very devote Christian, seeing as she was brought up by a protestant mother and a catholic father, baptized in the national church of Sweden.  
“So you have several gods, do you?” Iorveth asked, pulling his hand over his face, breathing out at length.  
“No”, Signe shook her head, “Only one god, but he’s three – sort of”  
Iorveth huffed, “That sounds complicated, dh’oine”, he said. “You believe in your god?”  
Signe shrugged, “Maybe”, she said, “I don’t know” 

Then they heard steps coming up the stairs outside and Iorveth sat up listening, and then quickly standing and wrapping a blanket around his waist as someone knocked on the door. He grabbed the knife he’d hidden under the bed and walked over to the door, opening it to find Ciaran standing outside.  
“There’s an uprising, some of the dh’oine, blaming Stennis for poisoning Saskia”, Ciaran whispered and Iorveth nodded.  
“I’ll be down in a moment”, he said before closing the door. 

He walked back over to the bed and looked at Signe, “Get dressed. There’s an uprising and I can’t protect you unless you are with me, I’ll not risk you being attacked here, alone”  
“I’m not alone here, Iorveth”, Signe said and sat up, “What about the family?”  
“You’re a dh’oine, en’ca minne. They’ll leave you to die if something happens, now, get fucking dressed”

*

They quickly walked through the town, Iorveth and Ciaran walking in front of her, talking and gesticulating. Signe walked behind them along with some archers. None of which she really recognized. It was difficult keeping an eye on one hundred of them, let alone learn to recognize them. It wasn’t that she thought all of the Aen Seidhe looked alike, but with their features, if you hadn’t learned their names or even seen them before, it was impossible. It was the same with humans, after all.  
They entered a small secluded area that led them on further, into even smaller yards and poorly kept gardens. There they were met by several groups of people, humans and dwarves mostly, shouting and raising fists, pointing at each other and growling. The epicentre of the brawl, uprising or whatever one would chose to call it, seemed to be coming from even further away, and so Iorveth kept walking.

“They’re looking to slaughter Stennis”, Ciaran said and Iorveth nodded.  
“What’s stopping them?” Iorveth asked quickly.  
“Knights, Aedirnian noble lords”, Ciaran said as the voices grew louder, not only because of the fact that they were getting closer, but because the shouting and screaming was growing more and more heated. 

“Where were you when they poisoned Saskia?!”  
“Give us the prince! And get the flails!” 

Iorveth strode into the group of people, a snarl on his face and his shoulders squared. He had his bow and quiver on his back, one of his hands rested on the hilt of one of his swords. Ciaran followed close behind him, as Signe stopped with the archers a bit further back.  
“ **Stop**!” Iorveth shouted and voices murmured around him, gasping his name and ‘Squirrels!’, “Everyone who wants to leave this yard in one piece keep your hands off your weapons!” Iorveth snarled. “I don’t care if you’re a serf of a lord, I’ll kill you all if need be”, he growled, looking around him at the people who now had quieted. “Now, you bloody bastards, what’s going on?” Iorveth spat.  
“The servant carrying wine during the feast”, a man spoke looking at Iorveth, “Said that Prince Stennis poisoned Saskia, we want justice!  
“You want revenge!” Iorveth pointed a finger at the man, “It’s not the same thing, dh’oine”  
“We don’t care”, he shouted, spitting on the ground. “Saskia’s fallen as if dead, while the poisoning prince and his noble lords rush to herd us off onto the field and sell us to Henselt. We won’t let them!”  
“You lie”, a noble man spat, pointing at the man who just spoke, “Nobody’s being sold! The poisoner must be caught and tried by law”  
“Your law?” the shouting man, well – shouted, pointing back at the noble, “What then? He pays a fine and get spanked on his arse? We’ll spank him all right, with an axe to the throat!”  
Iorveth turned with a snarl and looked at both men, “Enough! The Scoia’tael has the servant and we’re keeping an eye on him” 

“Why’s the prince hiding in his house if he’s innocent?” the shouting man asked, looking to Iorveth.  
“I said _enough_ ”, Iorveth growled, “I’ll shot the first reaching for his weapon! Then heads will start falling!”  
“There’s more of us, you can’t kill every-“, the shouter was interrupted by Iorveth closing the distance between them. He towered over the man, even though the man was indeed tall for a human, but Iorveth, was taller.  
“Then you’ll be first”, Iorveth snarled, seething as he pointed his whole hand into the man’s chest. “Now, **back off**!” 

Iorveth stormed out and Ciaran followed him, along with Signe and the archers coming after. Outside the yard, hidden from the angry up-risers, he stopped and turned to Ciaran.  
“We need to act quickly”, Iorveth said, looking at Ciaran and then shooting Signe a look. “The mob’s akin to a forest after a draught, one small spark and the fire will be unstoppable”  
Ciaran nodded, “We’re not judges though”, he said, looking at Iorveth.  
“We’re in it, whether we like it or not”, Iorveth said, pacing back and forth quickly, like he always did when riled up.  
“Iorveth”, Ciaran hissed quietly, “Why are we getting involved in the first place? Is this really what we do?”  
“It's for _her_ ”, Iorveth said and Signe’s stomach dropped. She understood it was because he cared deeply for Saskia, but not in the way she’d imagined. Saskia was important to Iorveth and it was easy to interpret it as him having feelings for her. Perhaps he did, but from what Signe could understand, those feelings were platonic. Well, at least she hoped they were. “Certainly not for this rabble”, he pointed towards the yard they had just left. 

Ciaran nodded, “All right. What’s your plan?”  
“We frighten them a little, bleed them if need be”, Iorveth said, “Let’s just hope the sorceress and that bloede vatt’ghern comes up with the antidote, or I’ll fucking have the Gwynbleidd’s head”  
“Where do we start?” Ciaran asked and Iorveth nodded, waving for the archers to come closer to him. The archers stayed behind and Iorveth’s eye bore into Signe. This didn’t really involve her, she thought, but then Iorveth waved again and stared at her and she realized he wanted her to come.  
“I’ll need you to listen too, dh’oine. You might be able to speak easier with the dh’oine than we can”, Iorveth said. “Question the peasants and the nobles as much as you can, and we’ll talk to the dwarves, it’ll be easier for us to speak to them. Signe, you talk to as many of the dh’oine as you can. Maybe someone can even help you to get to meet Stennis, but think about sorting the sheep from the goats. Also, Ciaran, speak to the servant that started talking so suddenly. We won’t have time to talk to everyone, that’s for sure. But try and gather as much information as you can, while the rest hold them off”  
“All right”, Ciaran nodded and walked off to speak with the archers. Signe looked up at Iorveth as he watched her.  
“You trust me with this?” Signe asked him and he gave her nod.  
“When you told me about the vatt’ghern, you chose side. You may not be Aen Seidhe, but right now, that matters little”, Iorveth spoke silently with a frown, “Saskia wants us to live side by side, in peace, and somehow, that’s a vision I can stand behind”  
Signe smiled slightly, “It’s an honourable vision, love”, she said in a whisper. “Though, we both know it’ll never happen”  
“You’re wise for a dh'oine”, Iorveth said and reached out and touched her arm, “I’m sorry I haven’t seen it until now”  
“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last”, Signe said and lay her hand over his, grasping her arm. “I’ll get to work, then. Commander”  
Iorveth huffed and released her.

*


	20. Mobs of Screaming Dh’oine - part two

Signe took a deep breath as she walked into the yard filled with rowing peasants and nobles, yet again. This time, Iorveth was walking further behind her, keeping an eye on things, while she and Ciaran tried to speak to those gathered. She saw Ciaran make his way to the dwarves and the few elves that stood slightly further off from the humans. They made less noise and Signe wished she’d gotten to speak to them instead, they were less intimidating than the brawly human men standing around, shouting and shaking their fists. And that was the thing she’d noticed when they had entered the first time, it was all men standing around. She was the only woman there. Just like in her word, it was a man’s world. The women were kept at home, a side from a few strong ones, and her respect for Saskia grew even further now that she was faced with these mobs of angry men. How did a woman like her control them? Saskia wasn’t a towering, manly woman. She was rather thin, doe-eyed, blonde and not much taller than Signe. 

“Bloody bastard poisoned the virgin”  
“Seize your tongue you hairy little miscreant”   
“I’ll bloody rip yer head off you mongrel!”

Signe looked over her shoulder again, seeing Iorveth who looked at her with a stern eye and then nodding, before he turned to two of the archers and said something, his hand resting securely on the hilt of his sword.   
Signe took another breath and then put on her best, modest smile as she with determined steps walked up to one of the noble lords, standing and talking irritably with what looked like another noble. 

“My lord”, Signe said and the man turned to look at her. His eyes widened and then narrowed, looking her up and down. Signe frowned, but then smiled again, “Might I have your opinion on this matter?”   
The man huffed, “And who’re you then, girl?” he said with a disgusted snarl on his lip, “A half breed, having joined the Sqirrels and now taking your best chances in killing us all? And a woman to boot. Stay out of this, wench!”   
Signe narrowed her eyes and took another step closer to him, steeling herself, “My lord, I’m as human as you are”, she said, “And I’m only trying to help you find a solution to this mess, by upholding the law. I’m not accusing the prince nor any of you of being the poisoner. I’m simply interested in hearing what you have to say” 

The lord looked her up and down again, then chuckled without a smile, “Well, finally”, he exclaimed, throwing his arms open, “Someone reasonable! It’s obvious Henselt bribed some serf who then did what he was told”   
“Hm”, Signe nodded.   
“Your think it through”, the noble said and leaned in to her, “The prince couldn’t have done it, the wine was in plane sight. Only the servants touched the decanters and who are they? Commoners! Then that same commoner incited his folk to stand against the nobles and the prince!”   
“I’ll keep that in mind, my lord”, Signe said with a nod, “Thank you for your time”, she gave him another smile and the noble now smiled back slightly, his eyes however, caught far below her face. _Men_ , Signe thought, ignoring it all together as she kept mingling and headed for another man, standing further off. 

On her way to the man, she walked past a few peasants.   
“Why’re you lingering about?” one of the peasant’s caught her by the arm and Signe immediately jerked her arm away, turning to look at the man. His clothes were in rags and he looked almost starved with an angry snarl on his face.   
“A human whore, working with the Squirrels”, another man wheezed from beside that man who had grabbed her. “This one’s sure to say the prince is innocent, then sting Stennis for a pouch”   
“You’d better instead search for our lad who served the virgin instead of pissing around here”, the grabber said frowning.   
“And how’s that better than what you’re doing?” Signe asked and crossed her arms over her chest, growing tired of all the insults. By now, she’d had enough of them thrown at her from both the Scoia’tael and humans, they dripped off of her like water poured over a goose. 

“What are you saying, you elf ploughing whore?” the grabber growled and Signe held her hands up, trying to calm the situation. In the corner of her eye, she could see one of Iorveth’s archers keeping an eye on them, his bow at the ready.   
“I’m here to listen to you!” Signe spat, “So calm your tits, all right? They say the prince stood right next to Saskia, am I right? Now, did he have access to the wine cellar before the council?”   
“How should I know?” the grabber shrugged and rolled his eyes.   
“Then why stand here shouting like you do know?” Signe asked and she could see the man’s face twist in anger.   
“The prince is a wealthy lord”, the other man said, walking up to stand close to Signe, “Bribing a skivvy to poison the wine is nothin’ to him”   
“That doesn’t prove anything”, Signe gesticulated, her palm upturned as she argued. “What’s this really about? Who’s backing you?” she asked.   
“We want justice!” the other man snarled.   
“We don’t need no one backing us. We knows what to do!” the grabber shook his fist.   
“And what’s that, exactly?” Signe asked, moving in closer to him, breathing steadily to keep herself calm and repress the fear still threatening to consume her.   
“If a lad counts hens wrong”, the other man said, looking intently at her, “He’ll be flogged. What should we then do with a man poisoning others?”   
“Kill him!” a man standing behind the two shouted.   
“You can’t just take the law into your hands, surely you understand that”, Signe said.   
“We’re not, we have law! We have to Virgin of Aedirn!” the other man shouted.   
“Well, she’s not able to rule right now is she?” Signe spat, “And you’re not fucking helping the situation by standing here accusing people without any proof!”   
“Then we’ll chose another who’ll manage”, the other man said, “But he must be one of us lads, that way he’ll understand us”   
“And all people are gonna be equal, our way!” the grabber raised his fist. 

Signe tried to take a deep breath, calming herself. She understood their struggle. Christ, the Russian Revolution hadn’t been far off from her own birth and the whole of Europe was in uproar, fighting against the ruling monarchies with the working class and their socialism fighting for equality and just the basic rights every human deserved. She understood their anger, these peasants – but what was she supposed to do? What they wanted, was anarchy. And putting one of them in charge? That would only lead to lynching and pillaging.   
Signe remembered the historical education she got during her confirmation in church, how the priest had told them about the peasant uproars during the reformation and how Luther, the reformer, had criticized the peasants for getting out of control and eventually driven them out of the cities. It had been anarchy, and this, this was no different. 

“And what about the non-humans?” Signe asked with a stern voice, “Where do they fit into your grand thoughts about equality?”   
“Oh of course you’d bring that up, you Squirrel traitor!” the other man shouted and pointed at her, “A human amongst the elves, sucking elven cocks and breeding with the scoundrels!”   
“We have enough dung on the fields. Let non-humans find a non-human land!” the grabber roared.   
“Away with them!”   
“That’s enough!” Iorveth had suddenly appeared beside her, “I’ll take each of your heads if you don’t calm down and show this woman the respect she deserves!” he spat, staring into their eyes with his one eye, gesticulating harshly. “We’re trying to solve this whole mess, for _Saskia_ , and what do you bloede dh’oine do? Call for blood and death! Back the _fuck_ off!”   
“We don’t have to listen to you, you sodding Squirrel!” he other man roared, “Who’re you to come ‘ere and decide? We’ve got weapons!”   
“What you have are pitchforks and shovels!” Iorveth growled, “What are they going to do against a hundred of the North’s best archers? Now calm the fuck down you, bloede imbeciles, before I put you all down like dogs!” 

The men swore under their breaths, but sauntered off. Signe turned to look at Iorveth who’s chest heaved up and down as his face twitched with anger, his jaw tense.   
“This is a mess”, Signe said quietly and Iorveth looked at her.   
“Yes”, Iorveth answered through tight lips, “Keep asking questions, I’ll keep an eye on those dh’oine bastards” 

After continuing to question both nobles and peasants, Ciaran came up to her, inching in and spoke quietly.   
“I’ve spoken to the dwarf who made Saskia’s goblet, he told of another dwarf trying to copy his work, called Thorak. It might be worth checking out”, Ciaran said and Signe nodded.   
“You suppose he might have tried to replicate Saskia’s chalice, succeeded and been able to poison her?” Signe asked.   
“I’m not saying he’s the poisoner, but he might know who is”, Ciaran said. “Saskia’s goblet was one of a kind” 

Signe nodded and followed Ciaran out and as they walked up towards the inn, they heard one of the peasant’s say something about some reverend. Ciaran frowned and walked up to the one speaking, it was the grabber from before.   
“What was that?” Ciaran asked, crossing his arms over his chest.   
“What do you want, elf?” the grabber narrowed his eye, snarling.   
“You said something about a reverend? What does that have to do with Saskia?” Signe asked, looking at him up and down.   
“I don’t know anythin'!” the he protested.  
“Well, you caused quite the commotion”, Ciaran searched his expression, “Afraid of something, dh’oine?”   
“I’ll not talk to you, squirrel!” the grabber shouted, backing away.   
“You’re lying!” Signe spat, looking into his eyes, “Twitching like you’ve got something to hide, just tell us!”   
“I didn’t do nothin’, didn’t say nothin’ and didn’t see nothin’!” he shouted, but Signe saw his eyes roam, as he twitched and backed away. Cornered, definitely lying.   
“Speak”, Ciaran growled and pushed the grabber who fell back slightly, stumbling, “Or I’ll cut your arm off!”  
The grabber held his arms up, “Alright, alright”, he whispered, “I heard the priest talking with the prince, this goody-goody said the virgin’s really a _beast_ , under fair skin”, he looked afraid, his hands shaking.   
“What priest?” Ciaran asked, shifting slightly in his stance.   
“Olcan, the one killed”, the grabber answered.   
“What else did you hear?” Ciaran hissed, grabbing the grabber by the clothes near his throat. “Tell me, _now_!”   
“Um… I was puttin’ Saskia’s room in order when the priest came to the prince’s chamber next door. They wasn’t speakin’ loud, but I heard the priest say, ‘Just clear the servants from the kitchen’, nothing more – I swear! Only Olcan, he could tell ye how it was, from beginning to end!” the grabber was highly agitated and Ciaran released him with force, making him stumble backwards again. 

“Dh’oine, come”, Ciaran hissed and stalked off, Signe followed after him, running slightly to keep up with him as he walked through the town.   
“What are we going to do?” Signe asked, as they walked quickly through the streets, people hissing and spitting as they walked. Ciaran, seemed unnerved and determined as he walked.   
“This dh’oine priest”, he said, “He’s dead, yes, but I know where he lived. If he had something to do with this, we need to break into his home and see if there’s anything to find there”  
“And how are we going to do that?” Signe asked with wide eyes.   
“Bloede d’yaebl, dh’oine”, Ciaran shook his head, “Breaking into a home isn’t exactly hard, you know”   
Signe rolled her eyes, “All right then”, she said, hurrying up her steps along side Ciaran. 

When they arrived at the house, Ciaran spoke quickly to one of the Scoia’tael guarding the human enclave of the city and then he walked up to the door, telling Signe to keep a lookout, if anyone came close while he pried the lock open.   
Once inside, they both started rooting through the priests belonging. There was a strange feeling in the air and Signe’s skin felt different. Ciaran, however, didn’t seem fazed as he went through piles of paper on the small table close to the hearth.   
“Here”, he said after a moment and Signe walked up to him, looking down on the sheet of paper he held.   
“That’s Saskia’s chalice?” she asked and Ciaran nodded.   
"It would seem so. See here, the writing tells of how to replicate it perfectly"   
“I can’t read”, Signe said quietly and Ciaran looked at her with a raised eyebrow.   
“Anyway, this is proof, we need to get going”, Ciaran said, “Find that dwarf, Thorek” 

Thankfully, the dwarf was not far away and after a quick chat with the strangely soft-voiced halfling, Ciaran and Signe was on their way again – having gotten nothing from him. Signe sighed and Ciaran turned his head, looking at her. He ranked his fingers through his raven hair, frowning. “So, dh’oine”, he said and Signe looked up at the tall elf, “You’re a sorceress of some kind?”   
“No”, Signe answered, shaking her head slightly. “Why does everyone ask me that?”   
Ciaran shrugged and became quiet, continuing walking. They again walked through what felt like the entire town and Signe was getting tired, this quest for the one who’d poisoned Saskia never ending. 

“This is buggered”, she said and Ciaran looked at her, stopping for a moment, sighing.   
“Why does Iorveth trust you?” he asked, “You’re a dh’oine. I usually do not question his orders, but this is unlike him”   
Signe looked at Iorveth’s second in command, biting her lower lip, “He has his reasons”   
“You’re fucking, aren’t you?” he narrowed his eyes, “You were in the room when I came and got him?”   
“That’s none of your business, Ciaran”, Signe crossed her arms over her chest.   
Ciaran’s eyebrows were drawn tight as he looked to the side. “I don’t care what Iorveth’s preferences are, there’s been rumours about him and Saskia for many a years. But that’s different. She’s not a dh’oine”   
“I know”, Signe said, looking down on her feet.   
Ciaran reached out and touched her shoulder, frowning as he looked at her, “I don’t dislike you, dh’oine. But I fucking hate your kind and what Iorveth sees in you is beyond me, but if he trusts you, I’ll do so as well, unless you give me reason not to”  
Signe shook her head, “I don’t know what to say-“   
“It can’t spread, the rest of the Scoia’tael can’t know about it, at least not now. It’s dangerous and no matter Saskia’s vision of dh’oine and the Elder folk living side by side, it’s a vision that’s more like a fantasy than anything”, Ciaran spoke calmly in a soft voice and Signe bit her lower lip.   
“It’s a nice thought though”, Signe said, “But I agree with you”   
“Will you give your life for the Aen Seidhe, dh’oine?” Ciaran asked, “For Iorveth?”   
Signe hesitated for a moment, her hands shaking slightly, then she cleared her throat and looked into Ciaran’s eyes, “I love him”, Ciaran frowned and Signe took a deep breath. “I will”   
He nodded once, “You’re different from the rest of these dh’oine, don’t think I don’t see it. But, trust doesn’t come easy”. Signe smiled carefully and looked at him, before they started walking again. 

“Where are we going, Ciaran?”   
“The sheet with the instructions of the chalice had some other notes, it describes a place in the outskirts of town, we need to check it out”, Ciaran murmured as they walked.   
“Alright”, Signe said and followed him.

*


	21. Trial by Screaming Dh’oine

“This must be it”, Ciaran said and ducked under the branches and leave, hiding the door from sight. He turned to Signe and pulled a large knife from his belt, “Take this, in case”   
“In case of _what_?” she hissed under her breath, “I don’t even know how to use this”, she said and grabbed the knife, holding it out.   
“What’s there to know?” Ciaran shrugged, “Shove the pointy end into the person attacking you. Throat, chest, lower back or groin, they all work perfectly fine”   
Signe swore in Swedish under her breath and Ciaran opened the door and walked it. Inside was a small room, it was damp and smelled of mould and moss, and it was dark like the night in there.   
“Hold the door open until I’ve been able to find a light”, Ciaran said and walked further inside. Signe stood by the door, tucking the knife into her belt, until she saw a small flame flicker, then she closed the door and walked inside. 

Ciaran had lit a few candles and as she looked around the room, she noticed it looked like a study of sorts, filled with books and sheets of paper littering both the large desk and the floor around it.   
After searching the desk and all kinds of small boxes and chests, Ciaran finally found something and without a word, he waved for her to follow him outside, but just as they walked towards the door, it opened and Thorek along with two other dwarves walked inside.   
“Oh, so this is where you’re hiding, Squirrel”, Thorek said and chuckled, looking up at the tall Ciaran. “Found a nice, damp place to plough your human whore, did ya?”   
Ciaran snarled and reached out an arm, pushing Signe further back inside, behind him, “I’m not hiding anything. Though, I’ve found these interesting notes, you see. They state that the master will return from the grave to meet with _you_ , Thorek”, Ciaran said.   
“Nobody returns from where we sent him”, Thorek’s soft voice spoke as he looked up on Ciaran, his eyes looking almost hollow, smeared with coal.   
“You just admitted to murder”, Ciaran said, leaning his hand on the hilt of his sword.   
“Aye, but what of it?” Thorek wined, “No one besides you and yer whore knows, and you’ll not leave here alive, Squirrel”, Thorek stared into Ciaran’s eyes and Signe backed further away. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, her mind roared inside her. They’re going to kill us, she thought.   
It was only her and Ciaran here, and she sure as hell couldn’t fight. 

“Get them, lads!” Thorek shouted in his silly voice, it sounded so absurd compared to the whole situation she found herself in. That freaky little dwarf, was now going to kill her, and Ciaran. 

The dwarves attacked Ciaran, who drew his sword and swirled around, kicking them. His height was what worked in his favour in all of this, but then Signe noticed one of the dwarves had set his eyes on her, and moved towards her. She grabbed the knife from her belt and clasped the hilt hard, backing further inside the room. Then the small man shot from the ground and sprang upon her, from pure primal reaction and, she supposed, luck – she was able to get a good kick in to his chin and he stumbled back, snarling.   
“I’ll get you, you bloody slag”, the dwarf snarled, moving towards her again with his maze steadily in his hands. “When you’re half dead, bleeding on the ground, I’ll fuck you until you plead for me to stop” 

Then he sprang against her again and Signe jumped to the side, stumbling and falling to the ground. The dwarf chuckled and raised his maze, ready to strike down on her – then an arrow hit him straight in the head and Signe looked over her shoulder, to see Ciaran standing with his bow in his hands, blood spattered all over him and the corpses of Thorek and the third dwarf lying in heaps on the floor, their blood flowing from their corpses and staining the floor.   
Ciaran hung his bow on his back again and walked over to pick up his sword, drying it off on the clothes of Thorek, before he came over to Signe and reached out a hand from her to grab.   
“You got a good kick in, there in the beginning”, he said with a small smile.   
“You saw that?” Signe breathed, letting herself be pulled up.   
“Of course”, he nodded. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. Talk to Iorveth about getting some training, at least in self-defence. He’s the best of us when it comes to wielding swords and knives, after all”

*

Signe and Ciaran walked back into the centre of town, Ciaran had found a key and a note on Thorek that he wanted to see where it lead to, so they walked up to Thorek’s small house. Inside, they found a receipt on an order for a chalice made to look just like Saskia’s usual chalice, an order placed by Olcan, the dead priest.  
“We need to return to Iorveth”, Ciaran said.

Soon they were hurrying up the steep roads, reaching the tall castle were the angry mobs had continued to have their spat, shouting and swearing at each other. Iorveth paced back and forth, keeping an eye on things and when Ciaran and Signe returned, he looked up and walked over to them.   
“A’baethe arse”, he sighed, “Tell me you’ve got _something_ , these dh’oine and halflings are driving me insane with their spattering”, Iorveth snarled and Ciaran leaned in and spoke silently to Iorveth.   
Iorveth nodded with a stern look, “Get on with it” 

Ciaran walked over to the nobles and Signe made to follow him, but Iorveth grabbed her arm, “What happened?” he asked and looked down at her waist, where the knife was tucked into her belt, “Are you all right?”   
“I’m fine”, Signe said quietly.   
Iorveth frowned and looked her up and down, seemingly searching for cuts and wounds. He saw the grime on her trousers and high boots, but said nothing as he nodded and walked over to were Ciaran stood, leading Signe with him by a hand to the small of her back. 

“Enough of this charade!” a peasant Signe recognized from earlier roared, seeing Iorveth walk up to them.   
“Try to be reasonable, folks”, a funnily dressed dwarf begged in the midst of the peasants and nobles pointing fingers and growling. “Sit down and talk in peace!”   
“Fuck it!” the peasant shouted, “We’ve talked enough! Come on lads, let’s drag the prince from ‘is hovel!”   
“You’ll do no such thing!” Iorveth roared, his voice harsh and commanding. When she saw him like this, she understood how he’d been able to lead the Scoia’tael for so long. He had a certain charisma about him, but at the same time, he was demanding and forced people to hear him. Iorveth, was a chaotic person, erratic at times and prone to violence in much of what he did, the typical rebel, one could say – if one wished to romanticize his actions. Actions, that Signe knew was atrocious, that you at best, could try to blame on the way the Aen Seidhe had been treated by humans for one and a half thousand years. Still, she couldn’t help but to listen to him and feel some pride in watching him do what he did, his anger seething through his teeth as spit flew when he growled.   
“Vergen’s not a fucking cesspit for anyone to shit in, there are laws to uphold and abide to! It’s Skalen Burdon’s job to uphold these laws”, Iorveth snarled as a noble looking man walked up and stood beside him. 

“There’s no law allowing a serf to threaten a king’s scion! I, Silgrat, brother of Seltkirk, the greatest knight to walk Aerdirnian land, say so!” the noble man spoke loud and Signe could almost see Iorveth boil over with fury.   
“Does it matter who was born in a castle and who in a pigsty?!” Iorveth spat at the noble man, “Any fool can prejudice and condemn, it’s easy enough to throw the blame and accuse, but how about coming up with proof? You filthy dh’oine seem incapable of doing just that, instead you stand here, shouting and threatening each other!”   
“A peasant servant claims that Prince Stennis supposedly attempted to kill Saskia”, the noble man spoke calmly in his stiff accent, “Why would the prince do such a dastardly deed? Bear in mind how eminent is his lineage!”   
“Are you absolutely insane?” Signe spat from beside Iorveth, “What does his lineage have to do with anything?! Royal blood doesn’t make you a better human you sodding moron, it doesn’t do anything!”   
“Watch your tongue, harpy!” the noble man pointed at Signe, before turning back to Iorveth, “If you can’t even control your women, what help can you be?” he hissed to Iorveth, who took a step forward, getting into the noble mans space and poked a finger into his chest.   
“I’ll advice you to _shut it_ , dh’oine”, Iorveth hissed back, making the noble man tack a step back, lifting his hands. 

“The mongrel coverts the crown!” a peasant roared. “Us lad’s ain’t so dumb as you lord’s think!”   
“Do you see?” the noble man turned again to Iorveth with spite in his eyes, “How the commoners hate the prince, spitting venom like adders! They’ve hatched a plot to dispose of him!”   
“Enough!” Iorveth stepped up, “This is getting us nowhere!”   
“One more question”, the noble man piped up again and Iorveth looked over his shoulder at him, with deadly intent in his eye, “How could the prince poison Saskia? It’s a known fact that servants taste wine from the barrels before the Virgin sips it!”   
“There’s no need to poison the wine, you fools”, Signe said, “Smearing the poison _inside_ the chalice would be enough”   
“I’ve never heard of anyone poisoning a chalice!” the noble man crossed his arms over his chest, giving Signe a mistrustful glare.   
“Does that mean it can’t be done, just because you haven’t yet heard of it? You’re so bloody ignorant!” Signe spat.   
“Signe”, Iorveth hissed, “Enough”  
“Well, Saskia’s got her own chalice”, the noble man huffed.   
“And it was commissioned from one of the dwarves”, Ciaran spoke up, “The order came with a very detailed drawing”   
“Even so, how did it come into Saskia’s hand?” the noble man asked, looking at Ciaran and then at Iorveth, ignoring Signe completely.   
“It’s not clear how the prince poisoned the wine”, Ciaran said, “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it” 

“Stennis is blowing hot and cold, everyone knows it!” the loud-mouthed peasant roared. Signe rolled her eyes. God, she was growing tired of that fucker.   
“That proves nothing!” the noble man cut through the air with his arm.   
“Answer me this”, the peasant pointed at the noble man, “Was not Stennis’ room next to Saskia’s? Do not the wines come from his own lice-ridden cellar? Can he not enter the Virgin’s kitchen at will?! Yes! The serene dumbhead price can, curse on his kin!” 

“I’m afraid you’re wrong”, Ciaran said, “The dh’oine priest, Olcan, wanted to get rid of Saskia, believing she was a moster at heart”   
“Olcan was on Stennis’ leash, like a dog!” the peasant raised his fist in anger.   
“Perhaps he didn’t poison Saskia himself”, Signe said, “But he allowed her to _be_ poisoned”   
“Stennis would benefit the most from Saskia’s death”, Iorveth cut in, looking at Signe and Ciaran.   
Then, hard clanking footsteps approached and Iorveth looked over his shoulder, seeing the prince walk inside. 

“Your highness”, the noble man spoke, “This is dangerous”   
“I’m not afraid”, Stennis spoke, “Fear is a commoner’s trait, unfit for one with royal blood running in his veins. What do you want?” he pointed at the peasants, “To judge me? Is a prince a common thief who steals a dozen eggs at the market? You stand before royal majesty! And you raise your hands against it! In this world, there are crimes that can be forgiven and crimes that, by any means, cannot. Just as a mother killing her own child or a man slitting his own brother’s throat cannot be forgiven”   
“What kind of utter bullshit is that?” Signe said and Iorveth grabbed her arm, pushing her back behind him, “Let go of me, Iorveth!” she jerked her arm from him and stepped up to the king, “How can you even claim to be better than everyone else, only because you have royal blood?”   
“How dare you speak to me in that manner?” Stennis glared at Signe, but she simply glared back.   
“I don’t care who you are, and I’m goddamned tired of this shit! Saskia needs to be cured and what do you all do? _Nothing_!”   
“I can’t be blamed for her death, she’s alive – and you have no proof that I tried to kill her!” Stennis roared, pointing at the peasants and ignoring Signe, as men in power always did. Ignore the women. “I won’t rise above the law, I can assure all you gathered here. However, only she, the Virgin of Aedirn, can judge me”   
“Well, how convenient!” Signe spat and this time, Iorveth pulled her back with force, before he nodded to his Scoia’tael and then the prince. 

“Then we’ll allow you to be tried and judged, _just like any commoner_ ”, Iorveth said and his Scoia’tael grabbed the prince and hauled him away. “ **Kill him** ”, Iorveth roared after him and the Scoia’tael threw the now bound prince before the angry mob inside the castle, who where on him before Signe even had time to understand what just happened.   
She looked on in horror as the prince was kicked and clubbed to death, his blood sputtered everywhere as he screamed in pain. Iorveth’s Scoia’tael held back the few knights trying to fight their way to aid their prince, some of them fell to the floor after getting a knife in the back. Iorveth touched Signe’s shoulder as he looked down at her, face expressionless and hard, then he lifted his gaze again and watched the murder continue in front of them. 

“And there’s the royal blood we needed for Saskia’s cure”, Iorveth said in a calm voice, nodding for one of his Scoia’tael to gather some of it from the now lifeless body of the prince. “Bring it to the sorceress, immediately”   
“The nobles wont forgive that”, Signe said, still staring at the massacre before her. Iorveth pulled her even closer to him, holding her shoulder in a tight grasp.  
“They’re a cowardly lot”, Iorveth said, “Yelping’s all they’re good at”   
“How will you keep them from murdering the rest of the nobles?” Signe asked, “The same things has happened in my word, this is the one spark they need”   
“Anything’s possible using strength. One just has to know how to use it”, Iorveth squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll need to get reinforcements. It’s time to summon the rest of the Scoia’tael. I’m going to head south and it’s best you come with me, dh’oine” 

His face was hard and Signe looked up at him, “But the mist?”   
Iorveth chuckled, “The mountains may stop human armies, but not the Scoia’tael. If you can’t climb, now’s the time you’ll learn”

*


	22. Moaning Into the Moss

Signe heaved herself up over the edge of a cliff, her lungs burning and her muscles aching. Iorveth sat crouched and watched, he’d helped her by pulling her up the last bit, but he looked like he was thinking. Perhaps he finally realized what a bad idea this had been in the first place?  
“I’m dying”, Signe wined as she lay down flat on the ground, her face slightly turned to look up at Iorveth who chuckled slightly.  
“You’re not”, he said, “You’re better than I thought, actually”  
“That doesn’t mean I’m not dying”, Signe sighed. “Can we rest for a moment? I haven’t eaten for hours on end” 

Iorveth looked around them, searching their surroundings. “A short break”, he nodded and stood up, “We need to locate the first commando tonight”  
“Ugh”, Signe dragged herself up from the ground and followed after Iorveth, who walked into the wood growing over the steep mountain wall they had just climbed. 

Iorveth found a secluded area just a few feet inside the forest’s edge and took off his bow and unsheathed his swords, before he sat down and leaned back against a large stone, patting the ground between his legs. “Come sit down, I’ll let you rest for a moment, but then we need to carry on”  
Signe nodded with a frown and sat down, leaning back against his hard body and the armour he wore. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than leaning against a stone. There were worse things, Signe imagined, than sittin between Iorveth’s long legs, leaned against his slim, but muscular body and feeling his hot breath against her neck. 

They sat in silence for some time, Iorveth keeping a look out, listening carefully, as Signe only breathed, closing her eyes for a moment and enjoying the closeness of his body. She could feel Iorveth’s lips rest against her hair, his breath lingering against her skull and it made her want to press harder against him, so she did.  
A silent moan fell from his lips, and soon, she felt his hand snake its way inside her shift, tugging lightly at her breast band, before it enclosed one large, heavy breast, squeezing lightly.  
“Here?” Signe whispered.  
“Why not? We’re alone”, Iorveth shrugged, kissing her neck as his other hand worked it’s way down to her crotch, stroking her from outside her leather trousers. 

Signe felt a sharp sting of arousal go through her body and her sex reacted directly, becoming wet as she circled her hips with the soft movements of his fingers, pressing her trousers up against her folds. She turned her head and was immediately met with his soft, lush lips swallowing her own, his tongue running against her upper lip, forcing her to open her mouth and let his searching tongue inside.  
The hand that didn’t massage her breast, easily untied the laces of her trousers and dived inside, finding her wet folds, eager fingers searching and finding what they were searching for. Two fingers circled her clit and Signe moaned silently into Iorveth’s mouth, bring her arm up to grab a hold of his neck as he fingered her. Her other hand grasped his thigh, her nails digging through his leather trousers as her eyebrows drew together in another soft moan. 

Iorveth’s fingers search lower and found her opening, and he penetrated her with two fingers, while rubbing the heel of his hand against her clit, and Signe melted against him, grasping at the little hair she could reach from under his bandana, their kisses becoming sloppier. Signe broke the kiss and looked down on his hand, working her from inside her trousers and she could see the sinewy muscles and bones working as he rubbed her, his beautiful long fingers fucking her and his taught knuckles moving as his whole hand seemed to swallow her entire mound, his thumb rubbing against her dark pubic hair. 

Then, her body tensed and she leaned her head back, breathing in sharply as she came over his hand, her body convulsing and Iorveth reached down to kiss her, holding her pushed against him by her breasts and her cunt. She sucked on to his lips, repressing her deep moans as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm, curling his fingers inside her cunt.  
“Oh, fuck”, she moaned, rubbing herself against him, “Keep doing that”, she breathed, kissing him intensely and holding on to the back of his head, pulling his hair. 

Iorveth kept fucking her, rubbing her as he played with one of her nipples, his tongue swirling around her own, and just when the first orgasm had left her, another came just as swiftly and took her over, making her tense again. Iorveth almost growled into her mouth as he pressed three fingers inside her, pressing the palm of his hand against her whole cunt, franticly rubbing and fucking her. Signe could have sworn she’d been able to tare a whole in his trousers from the orgasmic force alone. When she’d ridden out her orgasm, she was so sensitive, she had to push away Iorveth’s hand as she rested against his body. 

She could feel his erection poking into the small of her back as they continued to kiss, as she tried to regain her breath inbetween the kisses. She was fucking drenched and Iorveth brought his hand out of her trousers.  
“Fuck me, will you?” Signe panted and gave him a peck on his lips. Iorveth smiled one of his tiny, almost mischievous smiles as she rose to get on her knees, pulling her trousers down onto her thighs. 

A few movements and unclasped belts later, Iorveth’s cock pressed against her dripping cunt and a hair grabbed a hold of her long dark locks. Signe had to stop herself from moaning loudly as he pressed inside her from behind, her sensitive walls clasping around his vigorous cock, penetrating her through and through. He didn’t hold back, taking it slow, instead, as soon as he was inside, he ravished her. The pain from her hair being pulled together with the sparks of pleasure as he fucked her hard from behind, had her fall onto the ground. Iorveth loomed over her, fucking her with force deep into to green moss and all she could do was to fucking hold on. Her body was limp and his breath hitched as he groaned, thrusting deeply into her moistness. The smacking of skin against skin, her wetness smearing all over their thighs, mixed with Iorveth’s groans and her own moans – it could undue her all by it self.  
Then Iorveth fell over her, one of his arms bending around her throat as he strangled her, whilst pounding fast into her. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. All she cared about, was his hot breath spilling all over her neck and his hard, large fucking cock driving into her, hitting every goddamned right spot that she had. She felt so full, so completely and utterly ravished in the best kind of way.  
Then, Iorveth tensed and pulled out of her, spilling on the ground below them as his lips clung to her throat, his moans drenched into her dark locks. 

Signe turned and laid back on her elbows, looking at Iorveth stroking out the last of his seed, before tucking his dick back into his trousers and lacing them shut.  
“Why’d you come outside of me?” Signe asked and Iorveth looked up at her.  
He frowned, “You’re wet enough as it is down there”, he said, “Thought it might be uncomfortable for you with even more, seeing as there’s nowhere for us to wash up”  
“All right”, Signe said, twisting her lips.  
“Why?” Iorveth asked.  
“It’s just that… You’ve spilled inside me the last times we’ve done this”, she said.  
“You afraid of becoming pregnant?” Iorveth asked and crawled over her, kissing her on the lips lightly. “Don’t be, I’m too old”  
“How do you know?” Signe asked and Iorveth chuckled as he kissed her neck.  
“You really want me to answer that?”  
Signe thought for a moment, “Oh”, she said, …oh. “Well”, she said, “Do you have children? Since before?”  
“I do”, Iorveth said, kissing her lips again before pulling away and standing up, “But it’s not something I’d like to speak about, it ruins the mood”  
“Oh… Well, okay”, Signe said and pulled her trousers up as she stood up. She tucked her shift down her trousers again before lacing them shut.  
“Come on, let’s go”, Iorveth said when he’d pulled his bow over his shoulder and sheathed his swords and knives again. “We’ve still got a few hours before we reach the first commando’s camp”

*

They didn’t spend a long time in the first camp, the elves there stared at her with disgust, just as the others had done to begin with. Some of them still did, but Signe was now kept mostly in the company of a few well selected people, Ciaran, Ele’yas, Tir and a few others that Iorveth seemed to trust enough not to speak too much. But it was obvious at this point that people _were_ talking. However, Iorveth seemed to ignore it mostly and Signe didn’t ask.  
Iorveth spoke with the commandos leader for a few minutes, before he ordered the entire camp to move out, towards Vergen. After that, she and Iorveth continued south, climbing and walking, fighting off the odd wolf or wild dog that came into their way. Or well, Iorveth fought them off, Signe kept herself in the background and prayed to god that they wouldn’t attack her.

Iorveth moved through the woods like he’d done nothing else in his life, and she supposed he hadn’t. When they had left the first camp, Signe realized they weren’t going to really rest until they had gotten all of them and the night and day that lay ahead of her, would be long and exhausting. Iorveth’s mind was set in stone, and now, she just wished she’d been able to stay back in Vergen, doing whatever, really. 

When they had reached the last camp during midday the next day, Signe fell to the ground, fainting.  
Iorveth dived after her, lifting her up and touching her forehead.  
“What’s wrong with the dh’oine?” the commando leader asked through narrowed eyes.  
“She’s not used to walking this far, for so long. I’d guess she’s not been drinking enough water”, Iorveth answered. “Get some” 

The commando leader waved for someone to fetch the water, while Iorveth lay Signe down carefully on the ground, stroking his thumb over her eyebrows.  
“Who is she?” the commando leader asked.  
“Signe”, Iorveth answered absentmindedly, then he shook his head, “Just a dh’oine, she helps me”  
“How?”  
Iorveth thought for a moment and looked at the dark-haired man, narrowing his eyes, “It’s hard to explain”  
The man shrugged and grabbed the skin of water that a Scoia’tael had brought and gave it to Iorveth, who fed it to Signe. When he poured the water into her mouth, she started coughing and came to. 

“There you go”, Iorveth said in a soft voice, stroking her neck, “Good girl”  
“What the fuck happened?” Signe asked in a raspy voice, looking around her and meeting Iorveth’s green eye as well as a foreign pair of amber eyes staring down at her.  
“I drove you too hard”, Iorveth said, “Sorry”  
“Is this the last commando, then?” Signe asked, looking around.  
“Yes”, Iorveth answered with a nod, “We’ll head back to Vergen with them”  
“Great”, Signe sighed, her eyes rolling back, “I need to get back to our bed” 

Iorveth felt a string go through his body and he could feel the eyes of the commando leader on him, when he turned his head, he looked at the leader with stern eyes, but said nothing.

*


	23. Caught With Your Trousers Down

It was obvious that spending a lot of time in forests sucked if you were a woman, Signe thought as she crouched down behind a large rock, trying to think about anything else than Iorveth standing three feet away with his back turned to her, only to get her bladder to co-operate. She had held herself for as long as she could, but now, it was beginning to hurt, so she had had to stop Iorveth and whisper to him that she had to _go_. 

“Quit fuzzing”, had been his reaction as he signalled for the others to continue as he walked with her behind the large rock.   
“You’re going to stand _there_?” she asked, “You’re joking, right?”   
“I’m not jesting, no”, he’d said in a serious voice, obviously frowning. “Now do what you must, quickly. We can’t fall too far behind”   
“What if I have to do the other thing?” Signe had almost spat, “You gonna stand there then as well?”   
Iorveth had shrugged, “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”   
“Because it’s weird?” she answered.   
“ _Weird_? What does that even mean?” Iorveth had huffed.   
Signe rolled her eyes, “Strange”   
“Why? Everyone shits, dh’oine”   
“Not everyone watches others doing it”, Signe said under her breath, still trying to force her body to piss.   
“More people than you think watches others taking shits. You know, in cities like Vizima, they have shared bathrooms, where people sit on cue, taking shits together”   
“That’s not normal”, Signe shook her head.   
“I suppose those who do it would beg to differ”, Iorveth sighed, “You done yet?”  
“No”  
“Well, get on with it”, Iorveth gesticulated for her to hurry up, while sucking deeper on his pipe.   
“It’s fucking hard with you standing there”, Signe said.   
Iorveth shook his head, “You’re strange, you know that?”   
“Keep taking, I think it helps”  
“What do you wish for me to say, dh’oine?”   
“Just say anything”  
“Huh”, Iorveth became quiet for a moment and her pee stopped coming, just from the silence alone and Signe rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Well, if I’m to stand here talking, it more or less defeats the whole purpose of me coming with you to watch your back whilst taking a piss. I can’t fucking stand here listening, if I’m babbling, can I?”   
Signe sighed as her bladder emptied and Iorveth peaked back over his shoulder, but Signe didn’t notice, too caught up with the tension in her abdomen letting go. 

Iorveth continued rambling nonsense, but before Signe could tell him she was finished, she had a hand over her mouth and someone was pulling her back. Iorveth reacted immediately as she was able to let out an indignant squeal at literarily being caught with her trousers down. Several blue coloured men appeared almost from out of nowhere and it took four of them to fight Iorveth down. Signe was held back, and no matter how much she kicked and fought the strong arms holding her, it didn’t help and she had to sit there, watching as the blue-stripes beat him with black-jacks, kicked him and laughed as they did so, swearing over the ‘elven motherfucker’, eventually knocking him out. 

Signe tried to scream, knowing there was a full unit of Scoia’tael just nearby, but the large leather clad hand drowned out her screams and all she could hear was Iorveth’s chocked moans of pain before he became unconscious. Then, Vernon Roche, in his blue-striped coat stepped out from behind a couple of trees and smiled down at Iorveth.   
“I told you I’d find you, Iorveth”, he said and then turned to Signe, walking over and crouching down. “Hello again”, he said with a smirk before he rose to stand, gesticulating to his men, “Best move out, the Scoia’tael unit is approaching again”

 

They bound her up and put a disgusting cloth in her mouth, binding it to her head so that she couldn’t spit it out, then she was thrown on a cart and chained to a metal coil bolted to the wood of the cart. They unceremoniously threw Iorveth onto the cart with her. She looked down on him, he was still unconscious and she felt tears stream down her cheeks as she watched blood run from the corner of his mouth. But it bubbled, meaning, he was still breathing. She watched his chest intently and noticed it go up and down – small breaths, but still breaths and she felt herself let out a breath of her own that she hadn't known she was holding in.   
She inched closer to Iorveth, trying to lie down with her head on his chest, listening to his lungs and his heartbeat, but she couldn’t reach far enough.   
Then Vernon stepped up onto the cart, and Signe looked up and gave him a deadly glare from where she sat, her hands bound behind her back, her hair tousled with leaves, sticks and small branches sticking out of the wildly flowing raven sea of hair. Signe tried to scream at him through her gag, but only whines came out and it felt like she was chocking on the gag, she tried to push it away with her tongue, but nothing helped. 

“Calm down”, Vernon said and held his hands out, “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about”   
“Mhhrggh”, Signe incoherently snarled around her gag.   
“What was that?” Vernon cocked his head with a lewd smirk on his face, looking all too proud and victorious for Signe’s taste. She cursed the day she’d saved that man, cursed that Iorveth hadn’t just fucking killed him in that holt in the woods. “He’ll eventually hang”, Vernon said plainly and gazed down at Iorveth, as if it was slightly sad for him to say it and Signe tried to kick out at the blue-striped bastard, “You knew that was an outcome, just as well as he’s been waiting for it to happen. How old is he by know? Do you even know?”   
Signe nodded, staring daggers at the commander of the Blue Stripes.   
“Huh”, Vernon shrugged, frowning and then nodding slightly, “Never thought I’d see the day. Iorveth, the wooden fox and menace of the forest, hater of everything human and mass murderer – with a _human_ mistress, desperate to save him. You delude me”, he shook his head.   
Then he turned and looked back, raising his hand, “Ves! Tie the commander to the cart in case he wakes up during the trip. It’s time to go!” 

A blonde woman with short hair and a half-open jacket strolled up, her hips swaying in almost a vulgar manner and she sneered at Vernon, before heaving herself up into the cart. She shot Signe a look of indifference, before she rustled up some chains and bound Iorveth’s hands tight to another coil. Signe watched as he hung limp from the chains on his side, blood mixed with drool dripping out of his mouth and soon, his breathing started to wheeze and she again became agitated, frustrated that she couldn’t do anything to help him. He bled from under his bandana as well as a cut over his visible eyebrow. Some blood poured down from his neck, swirling into his tattoo and his left collarbone had started to bruise darkly. She didn’t even want to know how he looked under his armour. Hopefully, it had dulled out some of the punches and kicks, but those black-jacks were horrifying and they could easily bash a skull in, little less break ribs and puncture organs. 

As the cart started rolling, for the first time in years, Signe found herself looking up into the sky, her eyes filled with tears as she prayed to a god that had never before done anything to show his presence in her life. But, she’d learned how to pray in school and she did pray when she was a child. Now, her mind screamed and wailed to the god in Swedish, begging him for help and strength, begging that Iorveth survives and that somehow, _someone_ would help them.   
Tears streaked her cheeks and she snivelled where she sat with her back turned to Vernon who drove the cart. She looked down on Iorveth, lying there, so beautiful and broken, his chest still rising and falling silently, every now and again, wheezing. 

 

They arrived at what she soon understood was King Henselt’s camp, a large area of space, shielded off by high gates and guarded by tall watchtowers. Outside the gates, soldier’s were fighting off the undead wraiths, who kept rising, every time they had fallen as if dead, only to come alive a few moments later.   
Inside the camp, they separated her from Iorveth, they had to carry her away thrown over a shoulder, as she kicked and fought as much as she could, desperate not to leave him in the state he was in.   
She was brought to a dingy tent and dropped down on the ground were she crawled into a ball, whining from physical pain as well as the deep tare she felt in her heart from having been carried away from Iorveth, still unconscious and bleeding. What would they do to him? Would they hang him _now_? She panicked yet again and tried to rise from the dirty stomped mud floor, but a quick boot caught her and kicked her back down. 

“Where’ you goin’?” a guard huffed, looking at her with eyes shining with desire, perverted and nauseating. He crouched down by her head, aiming his stinking crotch to her face and chuckled, “We’ve not had a decent wench ‘ere in weeks, the lad’s are getting fidgety from all the fighting and no fucking”   
Signe pondered whether she was going to head-butt him in the crotch when the blonde woman stepped in, staring at the man with a disgusted snarl on her lips, “What are you doing, you swine? Get out!” she snarled and the guard stood up within seconds, saluting her in a ridiculous manner.   
“Now, I’ll take this dirty rag from your mouth and you can scream and wail all you want, but no ones coming to help you, understand?” the blonde woman, Ves, said.   
Signe frowned, looking up into her blue eyes.   
“No biting, yeah?” Ves said, untying the knot at the back of Signe’s head. “There we go”, she said and sat down on the ground beside Signe.   
“Where’s Iorveth?” Signe almost cried, “What are you doing to him?! He’s fucking dying! I _need_ to get to him!”   
“He’ll be fine”, Ves said and flicked her hand, “That sodding elf has taken a lot of punches, _believe me_ ”, she rolled her eyes, which only made Signe even more upset and she tried to haul herself up into a sitting position. “Oh, take it easy”, Ves said and helped her up. “What you doing with ‘im anyhow? I’ve never seen a human amongst the Scoia’tael. Half-breeds, yes, but you’re human, aren’t you?”   
“So what?” Signe snarled, “What do you care?” 

Ves shrugged, “I don’t”   
“Then shut up!” Signe snarled, “Just tell me, what are you going to do to him?”   
“Vernon’ll question him, the usual”, Ves said. “And then he’ll probably hang, considering what he did to Vernon”   
“What _he_ did to Vernon? He fucking spared him! Iorveth could easily have killed him there in the woods, but he didn’t. And now, what does he do?”   
“He does what Iorveth expects him to do”, Ves said, frowning.   
“Fuck you and your righteous bullshit! You’re all too blind to see what’s happening in front of you all. How can you fucking support what’s done to the elves, dwarves and other non-humans?” Signe cried, staring into Ves’ eyes, tears running down her cheeks again, “And for what? More and more bloodshed!”   
“The elf told you that, did he?” Ves said with a dark smile, looking away. “I get it, you’re in love or whatever the fuck. They’re easy on the eye. Fuck, I’m not completely ignorant to that, yeah? But, listen – he’s _not_ a good man. I’ve been around men like him my entire life and it all leads to ruin”   
Signe huffed, “And what? Do you believe that what you’re doing now, following that blue-striped commander around is anything different from what I do?”   
“At least I’m fighting for what’s right!” Ves said and stood up, “What you’re doing, it’s just… _Wrong_. You’re deluding yourself believing what that madman says. He’s an extremist, a terrorist. He’ll sacrifice you the second he’s able to, for his own gain”   
“Fuck you”, Signe seethed. “Fuck you and your goddamned commander, I hope you both rot in hell!” 

Ves shrugged and turned, walking out of the tent, leaving Signe alone with the disgusting guard peeking in over his shoulder at her. She looked up at him with eyes filled with hatred and spat in his direction with a snarl on her lips.

*


	24. Hell is a Marshland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, is dread and horror. Keep that in mind if you choose to continue.

Iorveth woke up with a dull ache in his head, his eyesight was dazed and all he could see through his one good eye was a dim darkness, blurring together with a strong nausea. He coughed and tasted blood in his mouth, blood and bile mixed together with dirt and grime. He tried to move, but then realized he was chained and he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. He tried kicking his legs, but there was only air underneath him. His arms were stretched up above his head and it felt like someone was driving a knife into his chest every time he breathed. His muscles ached from the strain of holding his entire bodyweight up, stretching him out completely.  
He snarled a deep breath and recoiled as he saw something move in the corner of his eye, then, he heard clapping and gloved hands came out from the darkness, followed by blue and white striped arms.  
_Roche_ , mocking him by clapping his hands, just as Iorveth had a tendency to do. 

“So you’re finally awake”, the blue-stripes commander said in a dark voice, “I knew you wouldn’t die, you never _do_ ”  
“Don’t tell me you worried, Roche”, Iorveth spat, eyeing the commander stepping out in full from the darkness now.  
“Oh no”, he shook his head, “I never worry. Though, your mistress – the human woman – has screamed and cried, wailing for you. She’s a real menace, you know that? When I spent the night with her, she never wailed like that”, Roche smiled and Iorveth bared his teeth, spitting towards the man mocking him.  
Iorveth remained silent, staring at Roche with disgust on his face, there was no point it letting Roche get what he so desperately wanted, searching for points to push him over the edge by using Signe against him. 

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Roche smiled darkly, “Of course she didn’t, why would she? I can understand why you keep her close, that tight but still voluptuous body, pale like white marble, chiseled into perfection…”, Roche mused, his eyes drifting away, “Her hands stroking my rough, hard skin as she… _Took care of me_ ”  
Iorveth looked away, the image his mind produced for him made him nauseous, Roche violating _her_ in that manner. She wouldn’t have, couldn’t. She would have told him. And why would she even sleep with Roche to begin with? She’d taken care of him when he was hurt, Iorveth had even meet her during that evening, warning her of the commander. She couldn’t be that fucking foolish, could she? 

Iorveth swore under his breath and looked back up at Roche, steeling himself as his muscles strained, his neck hanging heavily and feeling even more heavy as he held it up.  
“What do you want, dh’oine?” Iorveth snarled, narrowing his eye.  
“What do you think?” Roche walked up to him and pulled off his bandana, revealing his badly scarred face, lightly stroking his thumb over the crimson skin around his carved out eye. Iorveth could feel his breath on his skin, but held his head still as Roche seemed to take in every small detail of his trademark scar. “I’m curious, how old are you, exactly?” Roche said in a whisper.  
“Why do you ask?” Iorveth hissed silently.  
“As I said, curiosity. You’re a hard man to kill, Iorveth. Obviously, others have tried”, Roche said and stroked the thin, scarred skin, “It’s an enjoyable moment, having you here like this, bound up and at my mercy, surely you understand”  
“Go plough yourself, Roche”, Iorveth hissed, pulling his head back and Roche sighed a smiled as he backed away slightly. 

“Aren’t you curious as to how your whore fares? We caught her as well” Roche fingered the hilt of his sword, looking back up at Iorveth.  
“She’ll be fine”, Iorveth said.  
“I highly doubt that”, Roche smirked darkly, “Last I saw her, one of Loredo's men had his eye on her. However, I’m still deciding if I’m going to let that bastard have her. How ‘bout that? You hang, while that pervert plough your whore in the arse, making her scream in pain”  
Iorveth closed his eye, trying to remain expressionless, but Roche continued, “Maybe I should bring her here, and take her myself, in front of you. Wouldn’t that be something for you to see? The last thing you see before you die, is me, fucking your little human mistress, until I cut her throat in front of your eyes, still with my prick shoved up her tight, wet cunt”  
“I never took you for such a sadistic barbarian”, Iorveth spat.  
Roche didn’t answer, only shrugged. 

“Why do you keep me in here? Why not just get on with it?” Iorveth croaked, his nausea coming back and making him choke slightly. He must have had at least one broken rib, feeling like someone shoved a knife straight into his side with every breath.  
“Get on with it? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Iorveth? For me to give you an easy way out, let you die with some dignity left, allow you to become a martyr that the Scoia’tael speak of for hundreds of years to come in their desperate fight for something that’s never going to happen, for a world, that does no longer exist”, Roche walked up to him and grabbed his chin in a tight grip between his thumb and index-finger. “But I doubt they’d think so highly of you, knowing the great woodland fox, the leader of the Scoia’tael – Iorveth, loved a _human_ ”  
“You’re wrong”, Iorveth said, chuckling bitterly as he looked into Roche’s eyes. “Whom I love or do not, it has nothing to do with our cause. Having a human amongst the Scoia’tael, it’s an anomaly, yes… But it’s the fight that it important. It’s the cause – not the ones fighting. They can forget me for all I care, as long as they keep killing dh’oine barbarians like _you_ ” 

“You’ve always been a man of grandiose words, Iorveth”, Roche smiled darkly as he forcibly let go of his chin and stepped away. “To say they wouldn’t care about this girl? No, you’re not fooling me”, Roche shook his head. “It’ll divide the Scoia’tael and to me, anything that brings you rotting squirrels down, is a step in the right direction” 

It felt like his heart was cramping, hurting and he longed to just see that Signe was all right. But he had to put that aside, had to ignore the aching inside him, wanting to tell Roche to bring her here, just so that he could see her.  
He wouldn’t die today, he knew that, but that didn’t mean Roche, and that fucker Loredo who Roche for some reason had ganged up with, wouldn’t have enough time to hurt _her_. The last unit they had been traveling with back to Vergen, hadn’t been far off and they would by now be watching whatever this place was. But in the mean time, what happened to Signe?  
His unit might even leave her here for the time being and Iorveth didn’t even know if he could stand on his two legs. His whole body ached and strained, he could feel that he was bleeding, hurting. Would he be able to get to Signe, when they came? 

He looked up and watched Roche walk over to a table filled with the usual means to get people talking. Iorveth spat on the ground, saliva mixed with deeply red blood, as he watched Roche pick up a tool Iorveth himself views as a favourite. The one used to pull nails out during interrogations.

*

Signe had cursed the day she had helped the blue striped commander, she had cursed the day Iorveth left him alive and she had cried, screamed and kicked.  
Now, she lay splayed out on her stomach, on a rickety table, not even trying to hold on to it anymore, feeling numb and nauseous. She tried to shut her mind off, instead focusing on the small splints of the rugged tree beneath her pushing into her skin like small needles. Focusing the pain, shutting all else out.  
 _I’m not here_ , she thought, _This isn’t happening. I’m home. Home, in Stockholm and everything is fine. I’m putting on one of my best dresses, the golden sequin one that John gave me as a birthday gift when I turned twenty_. She imagined the dress, going over it’s every detail with its long, light fabric, so soft against her skin and the small, glistening pearls and gems in gold and peacock turquoise shaped into beautiful patterns reminiscent of Art Deco. She remembered how beautiful she was, how John’s eyes widened when she had tried it on, with nothing else underneath it as she strode out into the living room, twirling around before him. He’d smiled his perfect smile, just looking at her like he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His long, beautiful legs spread out as he pulled her by her hips into his knee, carefully touching her, stroking his hands over her bared skin, leaning in to kiss her passionately.

The third guard jerked, pushing hard and bringing Signe back from her thoughts as his hands twitched on her hips as he erratically ground into her. Then he groaned and spilled his seed inside her. He pulled out with a huff and Signe felt some kind of relief, still not wanting to open her eyes. When he moved back, she could feel the cool air around her buttocks, red from being hit and spanked, tenderized and bruised. When the fourth guard pressed inside her without mercy, she sobbed, screaming from the now numb, painless intrusion. She tried to focus her thoughts again, to escape, make her mind find something else – anything else. But she couldn’t go back to that safe place in her mind. John, he wasn’t there anymore. She couldn’t even picture him before her.  
The guard grabbed her hips and thrust himself into her hard, pressing a finger up her arse and Signe screamed from the pain, then biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Then he pulled out of her and she didn’t even have the time to breath a sigh of relief before he pressed his too large, too hard prick inside her arse. She felt like she was ruptured in half, the pain completely overbearing and she screamed, her eyes flaring up and then she saw. She saw what looked like a whole unit of guards standing around her, watching her intently. She could hear them, some of them moaning from how they wanked themselves off, looking at her. Others, stood in silence, only watching – someone else, cheering on the person fucking her, telling him to ‘fuck the elf loving whore harder', 'show her how humans do it', 'let her ‘ave it, lads’, 'a fine tribute from the commandant'. 

Signe had never felt such a humiliating horror before in her life and she wanted to get out of there, wanted to run, to do anything. But she couldn’t. She was shackled, thrown over a dingy table in a tent just as awful, somewhere in the corner of this camp and the fucking bastard she’d saved, had allowed this. He had given these men the freedom to do whatever they wanted with her, as long as it didn’t kill her. 

Now, she was ruined. How would Iorveth, if he even survived by some miraculous means, want her after this? She could feel the seed of three guards run down her thighs, thick and sticky. She felt the coldness of it on her back and dripping down in her hair where they had wanked and put their seed, shooting it out on her as if to mark her, humiliate her even further. 

These _fucking_ bastards, Signe thought as a hand gripped her hair and pulled her up. Her scalp screaming from pain and she only heard her body let of a whine in pain as an arm held her up, showing her off to the others as he fucked her.  
“Would ye look at that, lads?” One of them said and stared at her bared chest, her clothes ripped and falling off of her body. Signe hung on his arm, her eyes rolling back into her skull.  
“Hurry up, the whore’s fainting”, another one said. “I’ve not had my turn yet!”

*

Signe woke from cold water being splashed into her face and she immediately crawled into a ball, shielding her head.  
“Look at that”, an ufamiliar voice chuckled and Signe wanted to snarl, hiss and stratch the fucking bastards eyes out. She lifted her head, trying to locate him, if only to stare daggers into him, pretending she was gutting him with her bare hands, whoever he was. Instead, she choked on her voice when she saw Iorveth, hanging from a pole with his arms stretched up over his head. His feet didn’t touch the ground and he was stripped. Completely.  
He hung from the pole naked, bruised and battered, bleeding. His lower lip shook as his sole eye met hers and she immediately crawled over to him, ignoring her bleeding and aching knees scratching into the mud.  
“I’m sorry”, he said in a croaking voice, looking down on her with pain in his expression, his eyebrows drawn tightly together, “I’m so sorry, en’ca minne”

Signe had almost reached him when she was jerked back forcibly, making her fall back into the ground. A chain liked to her shackles, she noted and she turned around and met dark eyes belonging to a bald, heavily tattooed man.  
“ _You_ ”, she almost shrieked at the unknown man, “Who the fuck are you?!”  
“I thought those boys would have made you somewhat more compliant”, the man sighed, sitting down on a barrel, still holding her chain tightly.  
“Are you the one who’s done _that_ ”, she hissed and pointed to Iorveth. The man chuckled, looking down on her with eyes shining with a want that made Signe’s skin crawl. 

Signe didn’t think twice, instead she threw herself at him, trying to scratch his eyes out with her nails, but he was too quick. He kicked her back with a hard boot and she yet again, fell down on the ground.  
The man grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled her up, facing him. “You’re still pretty, who would have thought? Now truly a whore in the right sense of the word. You still have their cum dripping from your cunt, but yet you fight?”  
“You ordered that? You sick fuck!” Signe spat, beating her shackles into his knees, which made him throw her back and she hit the ground hard, hearing something crack inside her. “Where’s Vernon?” she croaked on the ground. 

“He better kill me soon, Loredo”, Iorveth hissed, staring at the commandant, “Because if he fail to do so, I’ll fucking hunt both of you down and make you wish you were never born”  
“Ah”, Loredo said and stood up from the barrel, walking towards Iorveth, stopping only to shove his boot into Signe’s stomach on the way there, “I knew this would stir some emotion in you, fucking elf”, he smirked. “Knowing what your silence cost _her_ ”  
“I won’t talk, and you tell Roche that, as well”, Iorveth hissed. “She knows the stakes”  
“Does she really?” Loredo cocked his head back, leering at Signe who lay in a heap of her own flesh on the ground, her breathing rasping into the dirt on the ground “She served a total of fifteen men, seven of them while still conscious”, he said and turned back to Iorveth, “How will you live with yourself, knowing you did that to her?”  
“Don’t flatter yourself”, Iorveth spat, “She did what she had to do, what difference is there in using your body to kill, or endure torture?”  
“Is that what you think it was? Torture?” Loredo huffed nastily, “It was all in good fun, wasn’t it, girl?” he said and looked down on Signe who lay seemingly lifeless on the ground, in the corner where Loredo’s boot had gotten her. 

A hand touched Signe and then a hand pulled over her mouth. She recoiled, opened her eyes in panic and looked back, meeting Ciaran’s amber eyes, and he held a finger over his mouth, telling her silently to not make a sound. Signe didn’t think she’d ever feel such a relief, seeing Iorveth’s second in command, but there he was. She looked back at Iorveth who’d seen Ciaran and was now keeping Loredo’s attention as Ciaran made his way further into the tent. 

“She’d do the same again”, Iorveth hissed, “For the Scoia’tael. Because she _understands_ our cause. She’s seen, felt, known the pain spineless swine like you inflict on others, seen the godsdamned horror all you depraved dh’oine spread. In this world and in the others all around us. Your kind is filthy, degenerate and lost, you won’t stop until there’s only one of you left. And you, doubting the one dh’oine who understands, the one who sees the world for what it is, well”, Iorveth smirked darkly, glaring into his eyes as he took a deep breath from his spread lips, “Was your greatest and last mistake, _commandant_ ”  
Ciaran rose behind Loredo and quickly pulled his arm around the bald bastard’s neck, slitting his throat. Blood cascaded down from the gaping wound and Signe heard him gurgle as he fell to the ground.  
Then Faen and Ele’yas came into the tent and Ciaran searched the commandant’s clothes for keys. He found them and let Iorveth down from the pole. Iorveth fell on his knees, but then pushed himself up and stumbled over to Signe.  
“Release her!” he hissed with his raspy voice as he fell down on his knees and stroked her filthy, still sticky hair. “En’ca minne”, he whispered as he held his lips to her forehead, “You did well, my love” 

Signe saw Ciaran look at Iorveth with a strange look in his eyes, but no one said anything as Iorveth pulled her up on her knees shielding her tattered and bared body with his own.  
“I’ll find some blanket or something”, Ciaran said quickly and looked down as he went about searching the dark tent. He found Iorveth’s armour and the rest of his clothes, and a dingy blanket smelling more of shit than anything else. It would have to do and Signe wrapped herself into it as Iorveth quickly got into his armour, clasping it to his body in haste.  
“We need to leave”, he said in a deep voice, croaking still and looked at Signe, “Can you walk?” he asked her where she stood leaned against a tent pole.  
“I’ll carry her”, Ele’yas said, “If that’s all right?” he looked at Signe with eyes looking almost apologetic, then he looked back at Iorveth. Iorveth nodded and Signe, staring at Ele’yas, nodded once. 

Ele’yas lifted her up and Iorveth, who’s leg was hurt, limped over to Loredo’s corpse, staring down on the former commandant with a disgusted snarl on his lips, before he lifted his foot and stomped down hard on the commandant’s head, crushing his skull. The sound from it was disgusting and Signe hid her head in Ele’yas neck as she listened to Iorveth’s grunts and stomps, bashing the cracked skull into the ground.

*


	25. Open Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, while Signe sleeps.

Iorveth sat with his hands wrapped around his head, leaned forward in the chair by the bed Signe rested in. His body hurt, he was missing all nails on one hand and two on his other. A rib was broken and he had cuts and bruises all over. But he’d still fared better by miles, from what had happened to Signe. What _Roche_ , the godsforsaken dh'oine bastard had allowed to happen to her. He knew Roche was a right bastard, but this? Allowing the gang rape of a woman who had helped save him when he was hurt? That was below even what Iorveth had thought about the man. Fifteen men, how was that even possible? How were her intestines still intact? 

As soon as they had made it back to Vergen, Iorveth had had a surgeon look her over and then report back to him about her general state. The surgeon had told him that she had been heavily brutalized and had clear signs of violence to her sexual organ and anal opening, along with the injuries from being beaten up and kicked. They had both received healing potions, Signe had received a sleeping potion to go with it.   
The sorceress had aided the surgeon in inspecting Signe’s damages and she was horrified by the state of her nether regions and its brutalization. Iorveth was so tired, from pain, from the healing potion, but still – pure and hot fury raged through him as he sat there beside her, trying to hold it all in. Most of all, he felt irresolute – perplexed, he didn’t even begin to know how to handle the situation. All the what’s and when’s and what if’s that went through his head only stopped at one notion; she didn’t give herself up like this for _nothing_. 

Iorveth had driven out the surgeon and the sorceress as well as the guards from the room, now sitting alone beside her. The light from the hearth and the few candles strewn about in the room, gave it a hushed feeling of false warmth, like a mist spreading around them in their corner of the room. She was so impeccably beautiful when she lay sleeping peacefully like she did just then. Her raven hair washed and brushed, her pale skin soft and glistening from the healing going on inside her, her cheeks rosy from a slight fever fighting to burn out the horrors that her body had endured. The sorceress had given her some kind of elixir preventing a pregnancy from the … _thing_. He felt nauseous. He didn’t even want to think about it, because thinking about it, made it _real_.   
”A d'yaebl aép arse”, Iorveth seethed through his teeth, dragging his hands over his face. What was he suppose to do now? He really had no idea. How would she be when she woke up? She’d been fierce when the bastard Loredo was still alive, but when they had managed to sneak out of the camp, which apparently was King Henselt’s bloody camp, she had begun to become agitated where she rested in Ele’yas arms. Iorveth would have carried her himself, had he not needed to lean on Ciaran to even make the way back to Vergen. She had started to cry into Ele’yas neck as he carried her and Ele’yas had stopped on occasion and murmured things to her, stroking her hair, keeping her calm. It had pained Iorveth that he’d not been able to do that for her.   
She hadn’t looked at him once when they walked, instead staying curled up close to Ele’yas. 

Iorveth looked at her there on the bed. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he didn’t even know if he dared. Then the door opened and Iorveth turned his head and looked over his shoulder.   
Saskia stood there in the door opening, a solemn look on her face, as if asking to enter. Iorveth nodded once and she stepped in silently, walking up to stand at his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. Iorveth reached up and touched her hand, her human hand, just like Signe’s hands.   
“So, I finally understand why you keep the human girl with you”, she whispered softly, looking at Signe. Iorveth didn’t look up at Saskia, instead focusing on the rise and fall of Signe’s chest. “Philippa told me what happened to her”   
Iorveth wanted to snarl something, but kept silent and nodded again, his face twitching from holding back and blocking out his nausea.   
“She brings me hope for you, Iorveth”, Saskia said and looked down on him. Iorveth looked up at her quickly with a raised eyebrow, before returning his steady gaze back on Signe. “That you understand the importance of a united world, where we can all live side by side. It’s a harsh prize to pay, but make it worth it”   
Iorveth looked at Signe and mulled over Saskia’s words in his mind. How could he ever make what had happened to Signe _worth_ anything. Nothing in this world could bring back what had been taken from her, what had been done. 

Yes, he had warned her. Yes, she knew pain and hurt was a possibility. Even rape. But this, Iorveth shook his head, nobody could have foreseen or prepared for anything like it. He’d heard of it a few times, but gang rape of this calibre? It was unusual, at most, it would be four or five men. But this, this was thought out, it was something done only to humiliate and drive someone so deep into the dirt, they would have a hard time finding their way back up again. _It was warfare_ , Iorveth thought with a disgusted grimace on his face. It was a show of power from Roche, demonstrating to Iorveth what he could and _would_ do, to anyone who aligned themselves with him. Loredo had killed the elven women, women he had raped and brutalized. Female Scoia’tael. Now, he had made sure another female of the Scoia’tael had been gang raped – only because she was _his_. Roche had called her his ‘mistress’, but it was wrong. A mistress, yes, in the human way of looking at it. Iorveth was still married, still had children. A human would view it as Signe being a mistress – but to the elves, she was more of a second wife, if one would view it at such. A mistress, was more or less a whore you kept on the side of your marriage. Iorveth hadn’t seen his wife in almost a century, neither his children. 

Saskia squeezed his shoulder, looking down on him with a soft smile, her eyes shone of sympathy as she gazed over at the sleeping form of Signe.   
“If you wish to be alone, I shall leave you be”, she said softly, “Though, I believe you must eat. No man can live off of air alone”   
Iroveth’s lips twitched slightly as he frowned, “I can’t leave her right now”, he said.   
“Of course”, Saskia said with a nod. “If you wish, I shall have food brought up to you. Please, stay here for as long as you wish. I can make this your room for the time being”   
“I…” Iorveth hesitated, shaking his head lowly, “I don’t know if she’ll want me in the same room as her when she wakes up”   
“She’ll understand, Iorveth”   
“I’m not sure she will”, he said, looking down at his hands, “Her life, used to be different. Very, different. This world, is foreign to her and the life I lead, the cause I would die for, it’s not really her cause”   
“It is now”, Saskia stroked his shoulder, her small hands feeling warm through his thin shift. 

Iorveth frowned, leaning his face into his hands, sighing.

*


	26. And Then You Open Your Eyes

_Open your eyes and see, it’s just a picture of a memory. Open your eyes and see, then try to cry for more. Angels sing above the laughing disease raining down from far above. Open your mind and feel, it’s just a speck of time and to see. Open your mind and feel, then beg for the darkness to reel you in_. 

It was her younger brother’s voice sounding around her, reading a poem she’d written as a teenager. He’d been fascinated by it’s language, but not entirely understanding its meaning. Signe didn’t rightly know if she herself understood it completely, even though she’d written it. That was what fascinated her about writing, how different it could be interpreted, depending on who read it and how. The words speaking differently to each and every person who wrote it, depending on their own experiences and how they viewed the state of things around them.   
She smiled and looked around her room. She was in her parents large villa, how had she ended up here? She didn’t remember coming here in the first place. And where was Alvar? It had sounded like he was right here, close to her. 

Signe sat up in her bed, looking around the room, its lace curtains blowing softly in the summer’s breeze, one of the windows slightly ajar, letting the freshness of the summer’s morning inside. The distinct smell from the large lake circling its way out into the suburbs from the Baltic Ocean reaching through the vicinity of the greater city of Stockholm came in like fresh puffs of air and Signe took a deep breath as she stood up. 

And fell straight down into a dark wooden floor. When she looked up, she was no longer in her childhood home, no longer in that softly light room, filled with the typical scents of a Swedish summer outside the central city. Instead, she was met by the smell of burning embers, the waft etched into the painted dark wooden walls encasing the dark room. She looked up in confusion and saw a familiar man sitting in a chair just next to the bed she lay beside. He was slumbering, his lips ajar and his profile sharp with a large, chiselled nose peeking out from behind a deeply crimson bandana of sorts covering his head. He was dressed strangely, historical-like, in a white loose shift, tied together with small laces into knots and he wore dark green leather trousers that ended halfway down his calves. They were met up with knitted long socks, kept up with leather laces twisting up his legs and continuing up to his knees, and on his feet he wore brown leather shoes, which looked _very_ medieval. How strange, Signe frowned. It looked so familiar, but she couldn’t place it, somehow.   
She looked him over again, noticing the two knives hanging from the side of the left of his hips and she scowled. What was this? Then she noticed his hands. He held one hand under his chin, leaning his head against it and on that hand, two nails were missing. The other hand, hung limply over the armrest of the chair and on that hand, the man had no nails at all.   
Her eyes wandered up and widened at the sight of his ears. Signe hiccupped and pulled back with a startled shriek, which made the man jump in his chair, looking down on her with the one eye that was visible beside the crimson cloth covering half his face. 

“En’ca minne”, he croaked in a whisper, getting out of the chair and crouching down before her, reaching his large slim hands out to her.   
“Wha-“, Signe croaked looking up at him with panicked eyes. His one large, deeply green eye searched her face and she backed away from him. When she did so, he stayed where he was, frowning.   
“Signe”, he said silently, letting his hands rest on his knees as he squatted. She saw his tongue peek out and wet his lower lip. “I’m not going to hurt you, dove”   
“H-how?” she stammered, “How do you know my name?” 

He looked at her with a pained expression on his face, closing his eye as he sighed, then he shook his head. “You don’t remember?”   
“ _No_ ”, she almost shrieked, pressing her back up against the wall, keeping a frightened distance from him. “Who-“, she hesitated, looking at his ears, “ _What_ are you?”   
“Please”, the man sighed again, looking at her with an expression that was sharp and slightly harsh, but not angry or even threatening. What she saw on him, was pain. “I’ll try to explain it to you, but could you get back into the bed? You’re hurt. You must be hurting sitting on the hard floor” 

She was indeed hurt. Her entire body hurt, especially her sex and behind hurt immensely, but she couldn’t recall as to why. She looked down on her body and noticed she was clad in a thin nightgown, made out of some kind of rough linen that went down to her calves. She looked at her legs, they were bruised – and… hairy. But, she shaved them? She became even more confused as she looked back up at the strange man still squatting in front of her, looking intently at her. 

Okay, she decided, he didn’t seem to be wanting to hurt her and right now, she seemed to be hurt enough. Maybe he could somehow explain to her what it was she was doing here and why his ears looked completely disfigured.   
Signe tried to stand up, but immediately, the world started to sway and everything moved strangely slowly, but before she could fall back down on the floor, the man’s large hands caught her around the waist, which sent a horrible sharp pain all through her body and she screamed.   
“It’s all right me’ blath”, the man said, holding her carefully against him. She buried her nose in his shift and felt the scent of sandalwood, earth and forests – along with something sweet, almost like tobacco. The scent was familiar and made her feel secure, somehow, and so she leaned in against him. “That’s right”, he said and stroked a large palm over her hair, cupping the back of her head in his hand. Then he dipped down and lifted her up under her knees like she weighed nothing, cradling her against him. He frowned, as if from pain when he looked down on her and took the few steps to the bed, gently laying her down with a poorly hidden grunt. 

He stroked her hair again, before backing away and sitting down in his chair with a huff, looking at her as he bit his lower lip, seemingly mulling something over in his mind.   
“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked. Signe frowned and turned her head away from him, staring up into the painted ceiling above.   
“I was in my parents villa, my brother was reading one of my poems, his favourite”, she said, then she thought for a moment, a strange feeling hitting her deep and she turned to look at the man again, “Why are we speaking Polish?”   
The man almost gave off a small smile, before rubbing one of his hands over his face, “You’re not in your country anymore, Signe”   
“I’m in Poland?” she looked confused and stared at him, “How did I end up here?”   
The man shook his head, “This isn’t… No, it’s complicated. But, you’re not _home_ ”   
“Do you care to explain how you know my name, then?” she asked.   
“I-“, he hesitated, twisting his lips slightly and she noticed his face twitching, “I’m your…”, he groaned, “We’re-“, he shook his head again. “I don’t fucking know what we _are_ , but you’re with me and I’m with you. We met, when you first came here and I… I pursued you”   
“You pursued me?” she frowned, almost rolling her eyes in confusion, “But I’m…”   
“Married”, he nodded, “Yes. So am I”   
“Are we married? But-“, she gasped, looking down on her left hand and saw the golden band still there, “John”   
“You and I?” he chuckled, “No, we’re not married, en’ca minne”   
“You keep calling me that”, she said, looking at him.   
“I do”, he said and nodded once, “You’re my love, my dove” 

“I’ve left John, then?” she said, not really believing her own words.   
“Well, I wouldn’t put it in those words”, the man said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. “You came here, by accident, I suppose. And there’s no way for you, that we know, to get back to where you call ‘home’. And now, it seems… You’ve lost your memories”   
Signe was quiet for a moment, trying to remember something that just wouldn’t come to her mind. “I recognize the way you smell”, she said quietly after a while and the man’s eye peeked up. “But I can’t remember your name”, she shook her head.   
“Iorveth”, he said. It sounded like ‘Jorrvetth’ and she looked at him with a strange expression. “Don’t tell anyone”, he smirked carefully and something sent an almost electric-like shiver through her. It was so familiar, _he_ was so familiar, but she couldn’t place him.   
“Jorrvetth”, she said silently and he huffed indignantly.   
“You never learn to pronounce our names correctly”, he almost whispered, his emerald eye glinting.   
“Your ears, then?” she looked at him, “Excuse me for saying it, but what’s wrong with them?”   
The man frowned for a moment, but then shook his head quickly, as if shaking away a thought and looked at her, “There’s nothing wrong with them Signe, they’re different from yours, ‘tis all. Just like I’m taller than you are. I’m Aen Seidhe and you’re a dh’oine”   
“I don’t understand any of those words”, she said.   
He nodded, his lips twisting, “I know” 

After another moment of silence he reached out and touched her hand, lightly stroking her fingers with his own spider-like, pale digits and Signe felt her skin prickle from the touch. It was good, but still it made her slightly anxious. Something about it felt so utterly natural, but at the same time wrong. Wrong as if something had happened, something really bad making her want to pull her hand away.   
“What happened to me?” she asked.   
“I don’t wish to tell you right now, so leave it for the time being”, he answered, almost defensively, leaning back in his chair and she looked at him with a deep frown.   
“Why not?” she felt herself become annoyed, narrowing her eyes.   
“I’m not going to”, he said in a tone that Signe interpreted as ‘that’s it’.   
“I want to know”  
“I don’t care, I’m not telling you right now. You were hurt, that’s all you need to know”   
“That’s not for you to decide”, Signe now snarled and the man moved forward in the chair, a clear snarl of his own gracing his beautiful lips. He really was beautiful in a strange kind of almost enchanting way.   
“It’s most certainly for me to decide”, he almost growled, staring into her eyes, “Right now, dh’oine, you don’t know what’s best for you, but I do. Now, rest and I’ll call on the sorceress to have a look at you”, he said and rose from his chair.   
“The-“, Signe pushed herself up from the bed onto her elbows and glared after the tall man who strode out from the room, leaving her alone, “ _What_?!”

*

That _man_ along with two highly strange looking women stood beside the bed, looking down on her and Signe felt like an animal at a zoo. The man frowned most of the time, a stiff snarl on his face that made him look as if he was constantly disgusted for some reason and while she looked at him where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, she couldn’t believe she was in some kind of relationship with him. He seemed to be an arrogant prick at best, telling her what she could and couldn’t know.  
The dark-haired woman was apparently some sort of witch, according to ‘Jorrvetth’, or whatever his name was and she tugged at Signe's body, looking into her eyes and poked at this and that. Signe groaned and writhed in the bed, wanting nothing more than to refuse to cooperate. A blonde woman stood beside ‘Jorrvetth’, looking down at her with a confounded expression on her face, as if trying really, _really_ hard to understand something that she simply couldn’t comprehend.

“Amnesia”, the dark-haired witch said, “I’d say it’s due to the trauma, she will recover from it shortly, she’s still in shock”   
“So she’ll recover from it completely?” the man said, not letting go of Signe with his eyes, even though he spoke to the witch.   
“I believe so”, the witch said. “I’ll make some potions to help her recovery along, but it’s best you remain patient, Iorveth. She’ll come along with time”   
The man dragged his hands over his face as he paced slightly, back and fort, sighing.   
“Listen to Philippa, Iorveth”, the blonde woman said, “She knows what she’s doing. She cured me, didn’t she?” 

Signe groaned and rolled her eyes, making ‘Jorrvetth’ turn and look at her again, “Are you in pain?” he asked, his eye shone with panic for a moment, before he seemed to regain control of himself and go back to his arrogant snarl.   
“ _Yes_ ”, Signe hissed, looking away from him with a huff. 

“Leave her be for now, I’ll return shortly with something that’ll make her sleep for some time. She needs to rest, both her body and mind”, one of the females said, before she felt a cool hand touch the side of her head, brushing up lightly against her cheekbone.   
“I’ll be back later, en’ca minne”, the man said and Signe ignored him, pulling away from his touch out of spite.

*


	27. Not Understanding Whilst Being an Arse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stealing without pardon from fizzbuzzler. You'll know what part, dearie.

Iorveth was at a loss for what he could do. Signe wasn’t herself and she hissed and spit as soon as he came close to her. It had been a week, and that blasted daerienn hadn’t been able to do ysgarthiad to help Signe regain her memories of him, or the time after she fell into this world. She was up on her feet, mostly healed and walking around in Saskia’s estate, but that damned daerienn and Saskia were the only people she allowed close to her – and Ele’yas, of course. Iorveth tried to push down the unflattering jealousy he felt, a long with the lasting feeling of wanting to bash the archer’s face into a pulp. But he knew it was all for nothing, it wasn’t Ele’yas fault, and neither was it Signe’s fault she couldn’t remember. It was a consequence of the shock from the rape. Her mind blocked out everything that reminded her of it and what led up to it, and that included him. It pained Iorveth, but at the same time, he was relived that she didn’t remember the actual rape, even though he wanted her desperately to remember him. 

He swallowed down the last of his ale and leaned back into the chair. Ciaran sat beside him, sucking on his pipe and Tir was playing her flute with Faen and Neave a few tables down at the inn where Iorveth had found himself every evening since Signe had woken up. He didn’t even try to visit her anymore, since it only led to her screaming and panicking, while trying to scratch his eyes out. Saskia came to him in the meantime, updating him on her general state and what she expressed. Ele’yas did as well, as he was the only male who could even get within five feet of Signe at the moment.   
“Another?” Ciaran rasped with the pipe still between his lips and Iorveth frowned, looking at him for a moment in silence, before he nodded, sinking deeper back against his chair, his legs falling open as he rested back. Ciaran waved for one of the barmaids to bring them another round. 

Ciaran leaned in closer to Iorveth, eyeing him carefully with his amber eyes, slowly chewing on the wood of his pipe, “Heard anything new about your dh’oine?”   
Iorveth face twitched and he shook his head slowly.   
Ciaran nodded, sucking on the pipe and then slowly blowing the smoke out between his lips. “Where did she come from, really?”   
“Why do you ask?” Iorveth answered, twirling the empty mug around in his hand.   
“I know she’s not from here, Iorveth”, Ciaran said and looked intently at him, “And she claims not to be a daerienn, so what’s the deal with her?”   
“There’s no deal”, Iorveth said in a short tone, trying to cut the conversation short. He liked Ciaran, a lot. Mostly because he knew when to shut the fuck up and not ask too many questions. Now, however, it seemed curiosity had taken over his second in command, and the archer eyed him with an expression that said he didn’t believe a word Iorveth said. Iorveth, on the other hand, simply scoffed and turned his gaze elsewhere. 

His gaze, fell on Neave.   
He shook his head, _no_. He wouldn’t. He didn’t love the man, didn’t really care for him – and Signe _would_ get better. She _would_ eventually remember what she saw in him and things would work out like they normally did. Eventually. 

But he was fucking frustrated. Fucking sick and tired of being rejected, of being hissed at, attacked by the woman he bloody loved even though he fucking shouldn’t. Fuck her and fuck her fucking amnesia, Iorveth thought and let his eyes fall again on Neave, who noticed him looking.   
The slim young man lifted his cup and drank from it, his eyes filled with a sharp look of hesitation, but still, there was the usual curiosity behind it that betrayed his emotions against his commander. When he spilled some beer that ran down his chin, Iorveth was certain it was on purpose, as he reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, letting his thumb slip in between his lips and sucking on it lightly whilst not letting his eyes drift from Iorveth's. Heat gathered in Iorveth’s groin and he could feel his cock reacting to the display, hungry for attention and a willing body to caress it. He ignored the fact that he in reality wanted a warm, lush and wet cunt to clasp down on his cock and suddenly, Neave turned into the most attractive man he’d ever laid his eyes on. His dark hair falling into his eyes and his chiselled small nose, that added to his sharp features along with perfectly shaped dark eyebrows. Neave had lips to die for, Iorveth knew, they were hot and demanding when needed to be and they engrossed his cock in the most wonderful way possible. 

The barmaid arriving with their ale shook Iorveth from his thoughts as she stood before them, blocking out his sight of Neave and he could see Ciaran watching him with a guarded hesitation, as if able to read his thoughts. He nodded to the barmaid and Iorveth remained still, not even looking at the blonde woman, instead a snarl crept up on his features, as he reached down under his kilt to put his now hard prick in a more comfortable position.

*

“He tries”, Saskia said, “You shouldn’t fear him, Signe. He only wants was best for you, however, he’s certainly not the best person in showing it. But he cares deeply for you. Believe me, I’ve known Iorveth for years on years – and I’ve never seen him this invested in someone’s wellbeing before”  
“Except in yours”, the witch said and rolled her eyes from where she stood in the corner of the small study they were sitting in. Signe shot her a hard gaze and the witch waved if off, turning away from her and moving around the room.  
Saskia had turned to the witch as well, but now she turned back to Signe with an almost begging look in her eyes, “I’m not going to force you to do anything, the gods know you’ve been through enough”, she hesitated and looked at the witch again, frowning.  
“Oh, just tell her”, the witch shrugged.  
“He doesn’t want her to know”, Saskia hissed, “And I’m willing to agree with him on that”  
“Tell me about what?” Signe said, looking at them both. Saskia drew back, holding her hands tightly while the witch moved closer to Signe, then kneeling down at her feet from where she sat in the armchair.  
“You do know you lost your memory, yes?” the witch said, looking into Signe’s eyes with her own almost yellow brown eyes. Saskia grabbed the witch’s shoulder and she looked back at the blonde woman for a moment, “It’s best she knows, Saskia. She needs to be able to control her own life, and with that comes the knowledge of what put her in this position to begin with”  
“What if it hurts her even further?” Saskia said, her eyebrows pulled tightly together in worry.  
“It will”, the witch said silently, “But she’ll never heal if she remains unknowing of what made her like this in the first place”  
Saskia seemed to think for a moment, meeting Signe’s eyes, then she looked at the witch again, “What if she blames him?”  
“Then she’s right in doing so”, the witch said curtly, “Had the elf not made her his plaything to begin with, she wouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with”  
“Philippa”, Saskia said with a stern look in her eyes, “That’s not fair”  
“Perhaps not”, the witch said, “But it’s the truth”  
“And sometimes the truth hurts more than what’s necessary”, Saskia concluded, looking back at Signe.  
“Stop bickering and just tell me”, Signe gesticulated harshly and the witch and Saskia both looked at her. Then Saskia nodded once towards the witch, Philippa, and Philippa took Signe’s hand in both of her own, looking deep into her eyes.  
“You need to know”, she said, “That this wasn’t your fault. What happened to you, it shouldn’t ever happen to anyone and it has caused you to bury your most recent memories so deep, you can’t remember anything. That is because it was too traumatic for your mind to handle, but for you to be able to handle what has been done to you and go back to your normal life, you need to know of it”  
“So get on with it!” Signe almost spat, her patience running out and the witch looked up at her with wide eyes, clasping her hand tighter.  
“Signe, you were caught by the Blue-Stripes commander Vernon Roche in the woods, travelling with Iorveth. Because of your relationship with Iorveth, Roche, we believe, had you raped and beaten, tortured”, the witch drew in a long breath, looking down on their hands, before she looked up again and her eyes had become hard and filled with fury, “By fifteen men”  
“F- _fifteen_?” Signe croaked, looking horrified as her eyes drifted from Philippa to Saskia and then back. “B-but, why?”

“Because Iorv-“, Philippa began to say, but Saskia interrupted her.   
“ _No_. Philippa, it wasn’t because of Iorveth!” she rose from her chair, gesticulating defensively, “Iorveth was badly hurt as well, you can’t blame this on him alone, Philippa”   
“But surely he has fault in this as well?” Philippa said, stroking Signe’s hand, trying to keep her calm.   
“At some point, yes”, Saskia relented, but then she frowned, “But he can’t possibly be blamed for what that rotten bastard Roche, along with Loredo put her through”   
“Perhaps not”, Philippa said, looking up into Signe’s eyes.   
“Sorry if I ask”, Signe said hesitantly, “But I’m just not clear on my relationship with this… Jorrvetth”   
“What do you mean?” Saskia turned to her, asking.   
“What kind of relationship was… Or, is it?” Signe looked back and forth on them both. They both looked slightly perplexed by the question and then Philippa shrugged.   
“We don’t know, exactly”, Saskia said. “Iorveth hasn’t told us, and I didn’t know until I woke up a week back”   
“I suspected something”, Philippa said, “The way he dragged you with him, but who am I to put my nose where it doesn’t belong?”   
“Well, it seems to be a talent of yours”, Saskia said with a huff and the witch rolled her eyes.   
“I can’t remember anything of what you claim to have happened to me”, Signe said, shaking her head. “Though, I know I’ve reacted to Jorrvetth. I mean, I’ve felt something. Like, electricity”   
“What?” Saskia looked at her with a strange look in her eyes, before she looked to Philippa who shrugged.   
“Um…”, Signe thought for a moment, “Like lighting, you know? I think I know him, as if my body knows him – but it frightens me that I can’t remember him, even if he feels familiar”   
“You need to talk to him, Signe”, Saskia said. “Come on, _please_ – I know where he is” 

Signe looked at her with a hesitant feeling in her gut, but her deep dark eyes pleaded with her to take her hand, and so Signe did and they walked out in the dark evening, heading for the Inn.

*

“Where’s Iorveth?” Saskia asked, peering down on Ciaran who shrugged indifferently, fingering his fourth, or was it fifth? Mug of ale. He couldn’t remember. In any case, he’d drifted away into his thoughts and at some point during the evening, Iorveth had left his side – and he had no idea as to where he could be. He glanced over to the table a few feet down, seeing only Faen and Tir sitting there, chatting and laughing over their own mugs of beer. His stomach dropped as realization hit him and he looked up at Saskia and then back at Signe who stood further away, looking uncomfortable and out of her general comfort zone.  
Iorveth couldn’t have made it off with Neave, could he? Ciaran thought as he looked away from Saskia, desperately trying to find either Iorveth or Neave in his close proximity.

Then, a door opened and Saskia, along with Ciaran and Signe turned their gazes that way. Neave fell out from the door, wiping his mouth with a content smirk on his lips, following him, was Iorveth, who stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell over the glaring eyes of Saskia and Ciaran, and the narrowed ones belonging to Signe.

*


	28. Small Steps are Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this listening to Rammstein - Pussy   
> I don't know what's wrong with me. Here, have fluff, or whatever. I'm not good at it.

Saskia had stormed out of the Inn, with Signe’s arm in a tight grip as she pulled her behind her. The blonde said nothing as they walked quickly back to her estate, ignoring Signe’s questions of what had actually happened. Signe didn’t understand a thing. So what, that elf and Iorveth had been inside that room together? Why had everyone suddenly become so upset? Saskia had shouted at Iorveth, pointing at him and calling him both this and that, words Signe never would have uttered herself. Mind you, she was a well-mannered woman, coming from the upper classes of Swedish society. Her grandfather’s family was nobility, for god’s sake – they were taught from an early age how to act – and such words were not meant to be spoken in public – or ever, for that matter. And why had she uttered those words to Iorveth for simply being in the same room as that other elf? Signe was shaken, completely dumb fooled. 

They ran into Ele’yas on their way back to Saskia’s estate and he looked at Saskia with a wondering glance, narrowing his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.   
“What happened?” he asked with a stern expression on his face and Saskia shook her head quickly.   
“This certainly isn’t the place”, she said and pulled Signe along with her as she continued to stomp her way towards her home. Ele’yas shrugged and followed, his hand reaching out to Signe’s shoulder and she peered back, letting go of Saskia.   
“Tell me what happened”, he said as they followed Saskia. Signe looked up into his deep brown eyes. He was frowning and searching her face.   
“I don’t know, to be honest”, Signe said, shrugging. “Saskia took me to the Inn, to speak with Jorrvetth, but then he wasn’t there. But then he walked out of a room with another male elf I didn’t really recognize and Saskia started screaming at him” 

Ele’yas looked at Saskia who turned and watched him back with a knowing look and Ele’yas nodded quickly.   
“’Tis best you don’t know, dh’oine”, he said and pushed her forward with a hand between her shoulders.   
“Not this again”, Signe rolled her eyes. “Please, tell me. Because I’m getting sodding tired of not understanding”   
Ele’yas took a deep breath and exchanged a glance with Saskia, “Neave, wasn’t it?” he said and Saskia nodded. “Well”, he began and looked at Signe, “It’s really not up to me to tell you about this. But, if you hadn’t realized, what they were up to, wasn’t exactly something you do with just anyone”   
“What do you mean?” she said, frowning, “And”, she said, hesitating, “If you mean what I think you are, what do you know about it anyway? You weren’t there”   
Saskia held up the door for them and Ele’yas caught it, steering Signe inside, “Iorveth thinks we don’t know what he does and doesn’t do, but most of us do. If two people are fucking, it becomes quite obvious after a while”, Ele’yas said and Signe’s eyes widened as she took the information in.   
“What?” she said, almost with a gasp, “You mean?” she shook her head and Ele’yas nodded, “But…”, she said and looked at Saskia, “How could he be with a _man_ , if he, as you said, was with me?”   
Saskia smiled one of her kind smiles, looking at Signe and reaching out, touching her shoulder, “My dear”, she said, “In elven culture, it’s nothing wrong with liking both men and women”   
Signe shook her head, “It’s not that. I just don’t understand – I’ve gotten the impression he loves me, but why then, would he do that with someone else?”   
Ele’yas scoffed, reaching out and pulling Signe close to him. She leaned into his touch and buried her nose into his coat as he stroked her hair. 

Saskia disappeared after a while and Ele’yas walked Signe up to her room. She liked Ele’yas, even though he could be crude and at times say things that seemed completely inappropriate. But it seemed he was always there when she needed him, a shoulder to lean on and he always listened when she needed to talk. Philippa and Saskia were nice, but the difference with Ele’yas was, that he _always_ seemed to be there when she needed him the most. Somehow, however, she felt there was something off about him and as they laid in her bed, speaking softly about nothing in particular, a feeling rose within her. A feeling of loss, of anxiety, of fear.   
She went quiet and Ele’yas looked at her, searching her for answers – but she didn’t give him any, instead, she tried to focus her mind on what was wrong. 

She felt betrayed, but at the same time a deep yearning ached in her stomach, hints of something almost electric that wasn’t there anymore. 

Then she remembered; an emerald eye, crimson, standing tall over her and peeking down. Then, a bath, arrogant chuckles and hot lips trailing down her neck, fighting and screaming, sitting down beside the fire, _Iorveth_ nodding, listening to everything she had to say. She… It came back in pieces, broken and scattered, but she started to realize that that burning ache within her, was jealousy together with a feeling of anger, disappointment and sorrow.   
She had truly loved him, hadn’t she? 

She turned to look at Ele’yas, who laid at her side, staring up into the ceiling, picking at the laces of his coat. “I love him, don’t I?” she said and Ele’yas turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.   
“Hm?” he hummed, his eyes sleepy, but still clear and watchful.   
“Jorrvetth”, she said, “I love him, do I not?”   
Ele’yas frowned and then shrugged, “I don’t know, minne, maybe you do, maybe you don’t. I never asked you”   
“It feels like I do”, she said. “I need to speak to him”   
Ele’yas rose, sitting up on the bed and held a hand out, stopping her, “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, he said.   
Signe looked up at him, shaking her head. “Why not?”  
“Well”, Ele’yas turned his head and looked at the door, before looking back at Signe. “Considering what he did”   
“What he did? We don’t know if he actually _did_ anything in the first place!” she snarled. 

Ele’yas tried to grab her, but Signe pushed him away and walked out the door, jogging through the long corridors before she reached the door leading outside. She took a deep breath and walked out.

*

Saskia had screamed her breath out when he walked out of that dingy little room with Neave. Iorveth hadn’t been able to utter a word before she stalked off with Signe in a tight grip and Neave smiled at him with a content look in his eyes. Iorveth had scoffed, letting a snarl take over his features as he walked back to Ciaran, who looked at him with eyes as wide as pans, an incredulous look on his face.  
“The fuck did you do?” Ciaran had asked him.  
“What?” Iorveth said as he sat down, not understanding the situation at all. Ciaran leaned over the table, hissing.  
“With Neave?”  
“Nothing”, Iorveth shrugged, “I went to take a piss and then Neave showed up, told me he had some information about the whereabouts of Letho and so I followed him into the room over there, to avoid curious ears. Letho’s been seen not too far south from here, apparently some merchants had spotted him and taken notice of his rather… Special features”  
“So…?” Ciaran looked perplexed.  
“What?” Iorveth sighed, “I didn’t fuck him, if that's what you're asking. What do you take me for? I know she’s a dh’oine, but…”, Iorveth shook his head, “I can’t fucking rid my thoughts of her”  
“Perhaps you should speak to Saskia”, Ciaran said in a dark murmur, leaning back against the chair.  
“Hm”, Iorveth hummed, “It’s none of her business”  
Ciaran shrugged.  
“And neither is it any of yours”, Iorveth growled silently, looking at Ciaran, who looked back at him with uncertainty clearly visible in his eyes.

Iorveth sighed and went to stand up, when Signe walked in through the door. He stilled and looked at her and she quickly saw him. He could see that she was hesitating as she decided on whether she was going to walk towards him or stop in the entrance.   
Iorveth thought that it would be better if he backed off, considering everything, but then something burned within him. That feeling that he had felt ever since seeing her for the first time, realizing, he didn’t fucking want to be without her, didn’t fucking want anyone else, ever. It was her, with her midnight blue bloody eyes, her dark, curling hair and her marble-like soft skin, thick thighs and round arse. He wanted her high pitched moaning to sound when he thrust into her, fingered her, fucking took her, he wanted her soft, almost frantic kisses, her light touch and most of all, he wanted to see her strangely white, beautiful smile. 

He carefully started walking towards her, keeping his eye on her all the way – she stood still, watching him. She was so beautiful, her hair in its usual mess, curls standing at all angles and her pale white skin slightly rosy from the chilled air outside. Her long, almost carved and whittled legs seemingly reaching a mile up to her round hips and then, that wasp-like waist clenching at her middle. He’d never laid his eyes on a more perfect creature in his life, and as he came close to her, she looked up at him, her eyes shining in the dim, smoky air inside the Inn. Iorveth felt his face twitch as he looked down on her, and her lips parted slightly and she took a breath, still silent. Then, she cleared her throat, her hand reaching out and touching his robe.   
“I remembered something”, she said quietly and Iorveth’s stomach almost jumped, but he contained it, keeping his usual snarl on his face as his one eye roamed her features.   
“What was that?” he asked in a quiet voice.   
“I remembered _you_ ”, she said and Iorveth felt his heart lighten just a bit and his hands reached up and cupped her cheeks, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as the ghost of smile played over his face. 

“What did Saskia say?” he then asked, carefully, looking deeply into her dark blue hues.   
“That…”, she hesitated, looking away from him for a moment, but Iorveth softly touched her chin and made her turn back to look at him, “That you did something… With that elf”   
“Neave?” Iorveth asked as he raked one of his hands through her wild curls.   
Signe nodded, frowning.   
“I didn’t”, he said quietly. “I… I used to, with him. But, now – today, nothing happened”   
“You used to?” she asked, a strange – almost slightly disgusted look came upon her face and Iorveth sighed.   
“Yes”, he breathed, “But I haven’t, not since… You”   
Signe nodded slightly. “I… I don’t know, about all this, Jorrvetth”, the way she mispronounced his name made him smile. She hadn’t done it before, but somehow, her brain didn’t seem to compute with his name anymore, but it’s not like he really cared. She’d remembered him, and she’d come him, alone, even though Saskia had been furious with him, she’d still come to him. She would, he’d told himself, eventually.   
And eventually, she did.

*

Iorveth walked Signe back to Saskia’s, and when he stopped just inside the entrance, Signe had frowned and looked at him.  
“Why are you stopping?” she asked, seemingly confused.  
“What?” Iorveth answered, narrowing his eye as he looked at her, standing close to the stairs and ready to head up to her room.  
“Didn’t we share a room, before?” she asked and Iorveth huffed, a small smile playing over his features.  
“Mm, before”, he gave her a nod.  
“Perhaps”, she said, her eyes waving, not really meeting his, “We could just talk? It…”, she sighed, “I think I miss you”  
Iorveth took the steps left between them and reached out, touching her hair, stroking it lightly, “You have no idea how much I miss you too, en’ca minne”  
“What does that _mean_?” her eyes were wide as she looked at him and he chuckled slightly, shaking his head.  
“For the millionth time”, he said, taking a breath, “Fuck, just forget about it, dove”  
“It means dove?”  
“Yes, amongst other things” he said as she started walking up the stairs and Iorveth followed her.  
“Like?”  
“Love”  
She turned to look at him, and she smiled. It was a small smile, but it made his stomach jump slightly, and he reached out, stroking her back as they walked.

When they reached her room, it was empty and Iorveth closed the door behind him, stopping with his back against it. Signe turned and looked at him, her eyes questioning and searching him. Then, she walked up to him and got up on her toes, stretching her short frame to become taller, and leaned in, brushing her lips against his. Iorveth stood perfectly still, his arms resting on his sides as her hands splayed open over his chest, her soft, full lips moving tenderly against his. He cocked his head and carefully moved his own lips, answering her careful closeness, still without touching her. He was still too afraid of her reacting badly to his touch, so he let her decide, let her steer their interactions. She had screamed and hissed before, confused and scared, afraid of him – but now, she seemed calm, but he didn’t want to stir something bad in her, so he followed her lead, letting her kiss him and answering carefully.   
Her tongue touched his lower lip in a light stroke and he felt his groin react, but he tried to push it down. He didn’t want her to be scared off – he didn’t even know how much she _knew_ of what had happened to her. He could bet his left foot that fucking daerienn had told her about it – but he didn’t know. 

Her small, chubby hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, pulling him further down as she deepened the kisses and Iorveth carefully laid a hand on her back as she melted in closer to him. But then, she felt his body’s reaction and quickly pulled away, a frightened look in her eyes. Iorveth looked at her with a frown, licking his lips.   
“I-“, she stammered, pulling her arms up over her chest, “I-I, I don’t-“   
“Signe”, he said, looking intently at her, “Do you know?”   
“Know what?” she looked at him with almost an accusing look in her midnight blue eyes.   
“What happened”, he said with a solemn look on his face.   
She nodded once and he sighed. That bloede daerienn, Iorveth thought as he shook his head, he just knew it was Philippa who would have told her, neither Saskia or Ele’yas would even think to go against his word. He stayed where he was, looking at her carefully. “I’m sorry”, he said, twisting his lips.   
She shook her head, hugging her herself where she stood. She looked so small and fragile, but when she lifted her chin and peeked up at him from under her eyelids, her eyes shone with a fury he recognized so well and he felt his heart clench. _That_ , was the beann’shie he knew, the one he knew was there somewhere, underneath all her confusion. 

She stalked over to him, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him down against her and sealing their lips together. Iorveth wrapped his arms around her and carefully lifted her up in his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as their kisses became more and more frantic.   
It wouldn’t be more than kissing, but it was enough. She recognized him and he saw _her_ again, for the first time in a week. It wasn’t really a very long time, but it was enough to make his mind stray, enough to make him look at someone else. He scowled at his own unforgivable idiocy inside himself, as he drank in all of her, swallowing her lips and holding her as tight against him as he possibly could manage. 

She hadn’t come back wholly at once, but parts of here was here now, and he relished it as much as he possibly could. When she ripped his bandana off and withdrew her lips from his, looking at his disfigured face with recognition in her eyes, he drove into the curve of her neck, trailing kisses against her soft, delicate skin. She moaned softly, a moan that wasn’t as much sexual, as it was of pure longing and …he would have to admit it, truly, love.

*


	29. Things Change With Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer hiatus than expected, due to work, depression and everything in between. I think I'm on the right course now, finally. And things are stirring again, this time in Vergen.

He gazed down on the sorry state of Loredo’s head with a disgusted snarl on his lips before he turned his eyes away, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel Ves’ eyes boring into him, accusing and unforgiving as she spat on the ground.   
“I fucking told you”, she snarled and Roche closed his eyes, breathing through his mouth. The general stench inside the tent was more than enough to push the bile up his throat. “You knew he would hurt her”   
“I-“, the word got stuck in Roche’s throat, blocked out by the thickening bile rising. He did, but in his anger, he’d let it happen. He’d killed kings for less than this.   
“She saved you”, Ves glared at him, blue eyes filled with anger and disgust, “She didn’t deserve-“  
“Fuck, I’m aware!” Roche hissed before he whipped around and marched out of the tent. This was a fucking mess. When the rumours had started going around the camp of what Loredo had done to the girl, he hadn’t believed it. But then Ves had heard the lewd, sadistic jokes from Loredo’s soldiers and gone straight to confronting the bastard. The sight Roche had stood before just a second ago, had been what she found.   
Iorveth was gone, as well as that girl, his _mistress_. What had he been thinking, letting Loredo do as he pleased? Roche wasn’t normally this ignorant. Sadistic and fanatic as he could be, but he seldom allowed for rape. It was just the pure and utter humiliation of this girl, this beautiful _woman_ , a human to boot, choosing to follow _Iorveth_. She had saved him. But then she had allowed for Iorveth to beat him senseless, leaving him almost bleeding to death there in the woods. 

Roche stomped his way through his camp, his face twitching as he quickened his pace. He couldn’t undo this, and he couldn’t even fucking kill that bastard Loredo for this. And now, now Iorveth had been able to escape. Escape, all the while knowing what had happened to _her_. Because he had to know. They were both gone, the Scoia’tael had been able to sneak into the large, rigorously guarded camp and then get both Iorveth and the girl out. It’s not like he hadn’t expected them to be able to do it.   
Roche had been foolish, had acted on mere emotion without thinking and now he was even more in the shit than before.   
“ _Fuck_ ”, Roche swore as he half-jogged before stopping and kicking a bucket of water and crashing his fists into a rickety wooden table just outside some random tent. “ **FUCK!** ”

*

It was as if the time stood still, just for now, for this small moment in time. The flames burning in the hearth licked the embers, warming the room and giving off a warm light, as Signe slept on his arm, her back turned towards him. Iorveth lay on his back, one arm curled around her soft chest and the other splayed over his stomach. She’d remembered him, which gladdened him without a doubt. But still, it lingered. That moment of weakness.  
He’d sworn off this kind of commitment years upon years back, only knowing too well what it lead to. He knew he was too twisted, to chaotic to not fall for the temptations during times he felt desperate and completely thrown off. He knew he’d made the mistake before, in so many different kinds of situations. He knew, he should be ashamed, and he knew, he should feel sickened by himself. At the same time – he couldn’t reach so deep into himself as to actually feel.  
He would kill Neave if he had to. He felt himself less than he had ever done before, less than he could have even imagined. Only because he allowed himself to _feel_ , not due to an actual feeling of guilt towards anyone in particular. But Signe, she didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve her. He could still feel Neave’s hands on him, around his him. He hadn’t stopped it in time, he hadn’t been clear enough. Should he truly have to, though? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

But he’d lied. _Nothing happened_.   
Something did happen. It wasn’t anything serious, it wasn’t anything _real_ and if he simply ignored it as much as he possibly could, it would not have happened. It would go away.   
_Lies_ , something deep within him whispered.   
Neave would be there, and that just wouldn’t do. Saskia knew. She could read Iorveth into his very soul and he loathed it to pieces. At the same time, he only had himself to blame. 

Perhaps it was true, he was a monster. A madman. Unreliable and volatile. 

He twirled a lock of Signe’s hair between his fingers as he frowned, thinking deeply and trying to just focus. Peel away all emotion, everything that was fucking wrong with him, as he tried to only feel the sweet heat emanating from her lush body so close to his. But she was, in more ways than one, so far away from him in this moment.   
He turned his head and leaned down, drowning his nose in her thick, unruly hair, breathing in her scent as he closed his eyes. He fucking _loved_ her, and still, he did the things he did. Why? Because he wasn’t even close to being a good man. But he loved her. He could do better.   
She never needed to know. 

A silent whine came from her as he pressed his nose and lips against her head and he felt her curl closer into his embrace and he pulled her closer, shielding her with his whole being. It was the least he could do. He had failed every other way, but he could still shield her and keep her close to him. 

She had a long way to go, with healing. Iorveth was still hurt himself and so he and Signe both stayed put for some time, doing nothing at all really. They ate, spoke and most of all, played Gwent. Signe was surprisingly good at card games, easily picking up the rules of the games Iorveth introduced her to. Much more easier than he could understand the games she knew and tried to teach him.   
Sexual contact was out of the question and Iorveth didn’t even think of prodding her. Rape, took time and he would give her as much time as she needed. He honestly didn’t care if he was never allowed to sleep with her again. He didn’t deserve it in any case, and he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge what exactly had happened in the small room that evening. It was easier just pretending it hadn’t happened, ignoring Saskia’s accusing eyes as he was forced to face her. Signe noticed, she wasn’t a fool, but as long as she didn’t ask, Iorveth didn’t spill. Perhaps she knew, but decided it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t shy away from him and Iorveth stayed with her every night, holding her close. She allowed him to touch her, kiss her – and it was more than enough. When her soft hands graced his skin, lightning went through him and the feeling of her lips against his made him quiver. She was just as tantalizing to him as she’d always been, but knowing what had happened to her, that suffering and humiliation, put him off from even wanting to lay with her right then. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore than he already had. She was pure, still so very pure, in her very essence and he had allowed that purity to be violated. It was because of him, that she suffered. 

“Oh, fuck off with your spies”, Signe huffed, peaking up at Iorveth as they sat across from each other on the bed, each with a deck of Gwent spread out before them.   
Iorveth smirked and looked up at her, Signe was twisting her lips in annoyance as Iorveth drew two new cards and viewed them tentatively, licking his lower lip.   
“Out of decoys, dh’oine?” Iorveth cocked an eyebrow.   
“Maybe”, Signe answered, fingering her cards carefully, “Or maybe not”, she looked up at him with a smile, replacing his last spy with yet another sodding decoy card and Iorveth grunted. “There we go”, she said looking pleased with herself.   
Iorveth peered into her large deeply blue eyes and chuckled as he raked his fingers through his hair. It kept falling into his face when he didn’t wear his bandana. But it was just the two of them there right now and it was late, so he’d left it off. They had stayed in her room the entire day, only sending for food and wine every now and then, switching between sleeping, resting and playing cards. 

Iorveth thought for a moment, looking over Signe’s row of cards and then decided to use his leader card against her strong close combat row, making her loose 30 points in one go. Somehow, he knew she’d get him for that, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of any other manoeuvre to get her high points down. She’d taken to play a Nilfgaardian deck against Iorveth’s Scoia’tael, and the Northern Realms along with Nilfgaard had its perks for a beginner, but the Scoia’tael and Monster-decks were just like him, volatile and hard to unmask during the gambling, which gave them a strength the other, more pragmatic decks lacked.   
Signe whined as her 30 points were removed by one of Iorveth’s cards and she sipped her wine, looking over the laid out cards before her, searching through her own cards.   
“Goddamn you, elf”, she said under her breath and Iorveth stretched out on the bed. “You never play fair”   
“Are you accusing me of not following the rules?” Iorveth sucked on his lower lip, his lone eye gazing into hers.   
“No”, she frowned and narrowed her eyes, “Not exactly”   
“Not exactly?” he huffed and reached out to trail two fingers against her alabaster skin, uncovered shoulders and collarbones stirring feelings within him, feelings that he needed to suppress. Signe leaned in slightly to his touch and sighed, placing a special card in the close combat row, a medic gaining her ten points as well as the choice to play one of her discarded cards, adding another 10 to her ranged units. “Look at that”, Iorveth mused and twirled his fingers in one of her long, curling locks of hair.   
Signe smiled towards him and cocked her head, letting her cheekbone rest against his fingers. He traced her cheekbone with his thumb and her eyes fluttered, but then a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, distress coming over her face and Iorveth pulled away from her as she shuddered. Then she took her mug of wine and drank deeply again, gesticulating for him to continue with the game. 

This was safe, just being here like this. It was all right, nothing to force anything. It needn’t be more, Iorveth thought as he looked over his remaining cards, deciding upon his next move.

*

Ele’yas sat with his foot perched against the table in front of him, watching with annoyed eyes as Saskia walked back and forth, whilst now and again looking up towards Signe and Iorveth’s room. A room they hardly left for days. Saskia was obviously annoyed, and it wasn’t as if Iorveth’s sudden retreat from all else to spend time with Signe didn’t annoy him, considering everything that had happened. But he couldn’t exactly do anything about it. At least it gave him some possibilities in doing what he desperately needed, without being disturbed. If Iorveth was busy taking care of his bloede dh’oine, he couldn’t be bothered keeping control over the happenings around him. And still, Iorveth trusted Ele’yas, he knew that much. It hadn’t stopped those split yellow eyes of the witcher from following him, piercing through him as if that mutated bastard _knew_. He didn’t, he just couldn’t know, could he?  
Ele’yas frowned as he shook his head, removing the thoughts entirely. He needed to go see his _friend_ , in any case. It was a long time since he had a reasonable outlet for the frustrations he carried inside him. Being kind to Signe, getting close to her, had taken a toll on him. Though, it had worked. He had only hoped that she would be less easily forgiving towards Iorveth. It would have made everything so much easier, certainly. However, Ele’yas could work with this too, in the end, it didn’t really matter much, did it?

Ele’yas rose from his seat and sauntered over to a chest, opening it and picking through it, ignoring Saskia’s eyes on his back. Yes, an outlet would do him good, he thought. An outlet of several different kinds.

*

Sometimes in your dreams, you hear a scream that wakes you up with such force you jump awake only to find everything around you to be perfectly quiet and sound, nothing out of the ordinary seeking to gain your attention, realizing, it was only a trick of your mind waking you with such a start.  
The loud crash along with a wailing scream that made Signe start, flying up into a sitting position in the bed, was not a trick of her mind. Because before she had even begun to look around her, Iorveth was out from the bed, pulling his armour on and swearing under his breath. For a moment, Signe felt all too confused as to what was going on, and before she could even begin to cover herself up, the door to the room was swung open and Saskia, along with Ciaran strode in. Iorveth was fastening the buckles on his armour and before he turned to face them, he was wrapping his bandana over his head and face, covering up the brutal massacre of his flesh.  
Signe scrambled to cover herself up, even though she wasn’t completely naked, her thin shift was revealing and she might feel some security about her body around Iorveth, but she didn’t feel it around the others.  
“Iorveth!” Saskia almost demanded in a strong and sound voice, crossing her arms over her chest. She was already in armour, but it did little to cover up her very visible décolletage. “Henselt’s attacking Vergen”  
Signe saw Iorveth’s face twitch as he began to gather his weapons, not having turned around to face Saskia as of yet. There was a strange kind of tension between them. Had it always been there? Signe couldn’t really remember, but there was something there she couldn’t rightly put her finger on.  
“Have they breached the gates?” Iorveth asked over his shoulder as he sheathed his knives and swords, counting arrows and preparing himself for a fight.  
“No”, Ciaran answered, “Our archers are keeping them off, for the time being”  
Iorveth nodded and then turned, his eyes locked with Saskia’s, “Have you rallied your men?”  
“Yes”, she answered, her eyes going between Iorveth and Signe. “I will not let this city fall, it cannot”  
“I shan’t allow it”, Iorveth nodded once and then peaked back at Signe, seemingly caught in a thought. “Where’s Ele’yas?”  
“We don’t know”, Ciaran said, frowning. “I’ve sent out people to locate him, but haven’t heard anything yet”  
Iorveth nodded, “Give me a moment”, he said and the others left and he closed the door after them, turning back to rest his emerald eye on Signe. She could feel her body pulsating from fright, adrenaline and something familiar, yet so strange, she couldn’t quite comprehend it. Was she to stay here? What was she going to do?

Iorveth walked over to her and clasped his hands on each side of her face, leaning down as his lips ghosted over hers. “I will need you to remain here, dove”, he said and Signe stared into his eye, her eyebrows knitted together tightly as she nodded slowly. “You’re in no condition to do anything. I will lock the door so that no one will be able to get inside, however, you wont be able to flee either. But trust this, en’ca minne, I will return”   
“You have to”, Signe almost whispered and Iorveth pressed his lips against hers, the heat from his breath rendering her breathless for a moment as their lips desperately moved against each other.   
When they parted, the snarl of Iorveth’s face was mixed up with an almost tortured look in his eye as he straightened up and backed away from her.   
“There’s a knife under the mattress, dh’oine. If you feel the need to, use it”, he said and turned and walked to the door.   
“Iorveth”, she said and he stopped, looking over his shoulder with a strange glint in his eye, as if she’d said something strange or special, she didn’t know. She got out of the bed with haste and quickly walked over to him, turning him and pushing him up against the wall. His arms hung at his sides as his one eye watched her with a careful fascination. His lips thinned and hard pressed and jaw tight, as she pressed him back with her hands against his chest. She stood on her toes and reached up to press an almost chaste kiss to his lips. Then, she murmured, “I don’t care what it is that you have done. You will suffer enough for it. But I love you”   
Iorveth breathed out heavily, before he reached up and cradled her neck in his hands, leaning down and devouring her mouth, “And I you”, he whispered against her lips, before releasing her and leaving the room. The door closed in front of her with a loud noise and Signe could hear the key turning around, locking her inside the room like a caught maid in some stupid and awful fairy tale.


	30. Freedom

It was like watching insects scatter, seeing the Kaedweni flee from the cluster of arrows that rained down on them like a holy fire, not sparing one inch of flesh from their penetrating sharpness, piercing layer upon layer of skin, flesh and sinew. Iorveth stood up high, shouting and commanding every new wave of flying arrows from his archers, as Henselt’s soldiers did their best to get up on the wall, along with crashing the gate, to get inside the city.   
The wooden gate was beginning to give, Iorveth saw it himself and before it burst, giving them no option to shut out the damned vile creatures, he ordered it to be brought up, letting the Kaedweni inside. They couldn’t stop them from getting inside, but they could indeed trap them, forcing them to become targets for the elven arrows flying through the sky without any remorse as to whom they pierced. 

Turning and leaving his archers, Iorveth made his way into the large rotunda that was the main meeting chamber. There, he found Saskia and Philippa, along with a few other nobles and lords, who’s men fought for Vergen’s freedom. It was however, when his eyes fell on that ever so familiar tousle of dark brown, almost raven hair, that he was held up in his tracks, a sneer coming over his face, as Signe peeked out from behind the sodding wench of a witch. She was dressed, but not in any sort of sustainable armour to protect her. Iorveth had left her in her room for more than one reason, and somehow, the thought of that witch getting her out wasn’t all that distant.   
Saskia walked up to him, patting his shoulder as she cast him a meaningful eye and then grabbed her sword. 

“I’ll protect her, Iorveth”, Saskia said, “The Kaedweni are moving in, stave them”   
Iorveth shot a quick glance over at Signe, knives tucked into her belt and her high boots covering her shins and knees, along with her coat, giving her at least a shield from the cold this far north. He couldn’t do more. He couldn’t let her stay here with him, it was obvious he couldn’t protect her. But how well could the daerienn protect her?   
“No”, Iorveth said through gritted teeth, staring down at Saskia, “I will do anything for you, Saesenthessis, but not-“   
“There’s no point in arguing this Iorveth, not now. Do what you have sworn to me, and I’ll pay you back in kind. The dh’oine will be safer with me and Philippa for the time being”, Saskia said and then she strode out of the circular room, her armour clanking with her every step.   
Iorveth gritted his teeth as he watched Signe follow Saskia and the daerienn and then he looked up to meet the eyes of Ciaran, who nodded in confirmation to Iorveth. He needn't to do else but to turn around and face the door leading outside, before it burst open and Kaedweni poured in, again so much like roaches flying on their prey, lips quivering in anger and mouths salivating as they felt their victory ever so close within their reach. 

Iorveth fought. He fought harder than he’d done in years. It was ever so seldom he actually got into close combat this intense, and he felt the sweat, blood and grime on his body soak his clothes, but he kept swinging his sword, slashing and pushing, piercing and forcing the stubborn and persistent flesh of the dh’oine to part, blood soaking his clothes and the ground beneath them. Stone stained red, as hard metal forced its way through skin and bone.   
Then, his eyes fell on a rush of white. The tall statue of the Gwynbleidd, hacking his way through the masses of Kaedweni having gotten inside the rotunda, and he swirled through them like a menacing storm. But Iorveth remembered Signe’s words about him and even though he didn’t deny the vatt’ghern’s help in the current fight, he kept his eyes on him. 

“I’d be less surprised to find you amongst Henselt’s mercenaries”, Iorveth spat to the Gwynbleidd as they had eradicated every last Kaedweni in the room.   
“You never did get me, Iorveth”, the monotone voice of the vatt’ghern sounded, his yellow eyes cold and devoid of emotion, as always.   
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten”, Iorveth shook his head, his eye boring into the witcher’s. “We shan’t retreat, even though Upper Aedirn might be conquered”   
“Your dream’s over, Iorveth”, Geralt said, expression empty as if all life had been removed from him.   
Iorveth snarled as he felt his facial complexion twitch and he leaning in close to the vatt’ghern, staring into his eyes and hissed, “ _Never_ ”  
Then he turned his back to the vatt’ghern and walked further into the room. The battle was far from over, and even though it seemed Signe had been right about the traitorous Gwynbleidd, and him not seeming willing to decide upon which side of the battle he belonged to, it decided nothing. They could still beat back the Kaedweni, he had no doubt about that. Saskia would pull through and Iorveth would do anything in his power to make sure she did. 

He ordered a few of his archers to stay, along with Ciaran to guard the rotunda, as he made his way after Saskia. He had to fight his way through oncoming soldiers, climbing the high altitudes of Vergen, trying to crawl into ever little corner and nook there was, but as he reached another battlement and looked out over the city, he could see that the Kaedweni was fighting a loosing battle. The arrows from his archers just kept coming, and soon, a large dragon, Saesenthessis, breathed fire all over the struggling soldiers. Iorveth shouted out orders for his men and the slaughter went on. He tried to focus his thoughts mainly on the battle, but couldn’t avoid looking around himself every now and again, hoping he wouldn’t see Signe somewhere. He couldn’t stand the thought of her dying here, from the hands of a worthless Kaedweni. 

As the last troop of Kaedweni soldiers were pierced by angry arrows, the Gwynbleidd showed up again. This time, blood smeared all over his armour, but he remained as calm as ever before, drying off his sword on the leather of his trousers.   
“The main gate”, the Gwynbleidd said and Iorveth snarled as he watched the _neutral_ witcher.   
Iorveth crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his upper lip twitch. “Admit it”, Iorveth snarled, “You thought I wouldn’t make it, Gwynbleidd”   
“You’re hellishly good”, the witcher’s monotone voice said, his eyes empty as Iorveth frowned. “We need to stop Henselt from retreating”   
“And then force him to try it”, Iorveth said with a biting ring to his voice, the disgust he felt for both the witcher and Henselt dripping from his words. “Saskia will lay the judgement for his and those with him’s crimes”  
The Gwynbleidd nodded slowly and Iorveth pushed past him, walking towards the large rotunda once again. He had no idea where Signe could be, neither Philippa, but he knew well enough that Saskia would show up there in any case, once she’d gone back to her dh’oine form.   
As his archers shot down the last of Henselt’s men, Iorveth ordered the main gate secured and as he walked, he spotted Henselt down on the ground and he could feel himself seething through his teeth. Something blue, striped and fast past the corner of his eye, and Iorveth whipped around.

*

Signe was indeed safe with the witch, but that didn’t necessarily mean she trusted her in the least. At least she was able to avoid most of the fighting, as Philippa was certain to stay clear from it. When Saskia returned, bloodied and bruised from fighting, Philippa was on her in mere seconds, doting back and forth. Saskia, kind as ever, only told her to quit it, but then reassured the sorceress that she was fine.  
Saskia and Philippa brought Signe with them back to the rotunda, where the rest of the nobles were waiting. There, she was met by Ciaran, who was a pleasant sight as she’d been hauled back and forth between Saskia, Philippa and a number of other people since she had left Iorveth here a few hours ago. It pained her to see that Iorveth wasn’t there, but when she walked up to Ciaran, and slightly awkwardly stood beside him, he nodded to her, his brown eyes looking kind, but exhausted as he silently smoked his pipe, remaining silent.  
After a few moments, a Scoia’tael archer came in and announced that King Henselt was on his way up, to negotiate. It made Philippa huff and snort as she eyed the archer, “Negotiate? What means does he think he’ll have to negotiate. It will be a full on surrender, no doubt”  
“Ever which way, we will listen to what he has to say, Philippa”, Saskia said in her calm voice, “One thing’s certain, he’s got no other choice but to yield and give over his claim on Upper Aedirn”

Signe listened as she stood beside Ciaran, breathing in the smoke from his tobacco and feeling the calm come over her. It always did just that, the smell of burning tobacco. She was not a keen smoker herself, but she did enjoy the smell of it from others. She leaned in close to Ciaran, him towering over her as all male elves did.   
“Where’s Iorveth?” she asked and Ciaran’s lips were pressed hard together.   
“I don’t know, dh’oine”, he said.   
“He’s not been back, yet?” Signe pressed, her voice silent, but she was sure Ciaran could hear the desperation in her voice.   
“No”, he said and Signe took a step back. 

Then, Saskia and Philippa started walking towards the door, Saskia motioning for Signe, along with Ciaran and a few other archers to come with them.   
Outside, they were greated by King Henselt walking up to Saskia and taking his crown off, a symbol of his surrender in the battle lost to Saskia and her rebels. It was with a deep sigh he did this, and Signe kept herself close to Ciaran, mostly out of a sense of security, as she most certainly didn’t like the look the king’s mage gave her, standing by his side and looking like he’d swallowed bile and acid.   
“The battle is over, king”, Saskia said and gesticulated fiercely where she stood next to Philippa.   
“You won, and the victor state their terms”, the king said with a deep sigh.   
“You know my terms”, Saskia stepped up to him, standing so close to the king that surely, had he not just lost a battle and was forced to put the lives of his still remaining men in Saskia’s hands, it would have been deemed as highly inappropriate. “You will relinquish Aedirn, and sign an act of unconditional surrender, in which you’ll promise your troops will never cross the Pontar”  
“Is that all?” the king sounded almost disgusted as he stood, peering down on the small woman. Saskia in reality wasn’t all that small, she was a well built and strong woman, taller than Signe by a few inches, but still – Henselt was a brute of a man, looking more like a bearded ogre than a king, to Signe’s mind. Though perhaps, she’d spent too long a time in the sole company of elven men, with their lithe and hairless features, sharp and beautifully moulded with a natural grace to their movements, that she now viewed the human men as the elves did.   
“You’ll pay war reparations and recognize the free realm of Upper Aedirn”, Saskia said with a troubled frown on her soft features, then she lifted her gaze and her eyes blared into Henselt’s with a dark, burning fire, “With Saskia of Vergen at its head”   
“What about me and my men?” the king demanded, as the mage behind him seemed to seethe through his teeth. Signe felt herself step even closer to Ciaran, and Ciaran peered down on her, his bow in a strong grip. “What awaits us?”  
“Freedom”, Saskia answered, “It’s a great thing. Look how many of my soldiers died defending it”  
“How much do you want?” the king asked in a hesitant voice.   
“We’ll discuss the war reparations in detail at Loc Muinne”, Philippa broke in and her intense dark eyes almost pierced through the once great thug of king standing before them. “Before esteemed witnesses. There is one thing Saskia didn’t mention”, Philippa continued.   
“I’m listening”, Henselt said, suspicion in his eyes as he glared at the sorceress.   
“Since the dawn of time, wars were, are and will yet be, one-side wins. The other looses”, Philippa spoke with an almost playful tone in her voice, the king shifted impatiently, “But military conflict should be carried out through chivalrous rules and laws”   
“What’s your point, sorceress?” the king demanded.   
“War-criminals including Dethmold, must be punished”, Saskia said, her eyes moving from the king, towards his mage standing slightly behind him.   
The king sputtered, “I need an advisor!” he almost shouted, his voice angry and Signe felt Ciaran’s hand reach out before her, holding her back.   
“War-criminals must be punished!” Saskia demanded.   
“You’ll have a new advisor”, Philippa said with a smirk, “Sheala de Tancarville”  
“Has this witch gone mad?” the king shouted, his eyes sparking with anger.  
“It’s a necessary condition!” Philippa retorted with an angry frown of her own.   
“Dethmold committed a crime, and he _must_ be punished!” Saskia intervened. 

The king sighed, without looking back to his mage and then he shook his head, “As you wish”, he finally said.   
“Execute him”, Saskia said in her controlled voice, a voice too high pitched and soft to be the voice of a commander, but still so enticing that you simply couldn’t help but to listen. A voice, people had died for, and still would die for. 

As the Scoia’tael archers grabbed hold of Dethmold, who protested, Signe heard a noise coming from further away. A noise, sounding like a row of sorts. She looked up at Ciaran who seemed to have heard it too.   
“Hasn’t the fighting seized?” Signe asked. Ciaran shrugged.   
“Could be some stragglers, I suppose”, he said, refocusing his glance at the struggling mage. Then, a shout and flustered growls that sounded all too familiar had Ciaran running off in a heartbeat and Signe followed him.   
It didn’t take them long to find the source of the sounds. In a completely and utterly undignified heap of striped blue and white, mashed with forest green and red, Roche and Iorveth was in the middle of trying to claw their eyes out. Their weapons lay strewn around them, all outside of their reach as they pounded each other with closed fists, snarling and growling. If anything, it looked like some bar-fight having gone awry, if it wasn’t for the absolute bloodied mess of their two bodies, as they beat on each other like sibling having fallen out. 

When Roche was on top of Iorveth, Signe saw him reach for a hidden knife inside his belt and without thinking, she leaped and threw herself on him, pulling as hard as she could to get him off of Iorveth, biting into his exposed flesh on his arm. Roche howled and tried to push her off, but Signe just wouldn’t relent. She couldn’t let this bastard kill Iorveth. Iorveth had promised, he had promised he would be back for her. He’d always kept her locked up, locked inside or locked to his side – and she wouldn’t fucking allow him to fail this time. Wouldn’t fucking allow this bastard to cut him up and waste him out, when they had just won. How had he gotten inside Vergen in any case?   
A deep snarl from Iorveth came and he was able to push Roche off of him and Signe struggled to stay on her feet as Ciaran and another archer grabbed a hold of Roche, letting Iorveth pull himself up.   
Signe was on him in seconds, wiping away blood on his brow as Iorveth spat blood on the ground.   
“Kill that whoreson!” Iorveth spat, his eye filled with deadly intent as he glared at Roche, pulling Signe behind him with a determined hand. “I told you, Roche, we Aen Seidhe never kill the last of a dying breed. But because of what you have done, you deserve no less ending to your miserable life”  
Roche laughed and Signe latched on to Iorveth’s armour, holding him from closing in on Roche. “What I have done? You’re as much to blame, elf”, Roche said and his face turned serious, “Hadn’t it been for you, your little whore wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place, and don’t you just know it. I see it, Iorveth, it eats away at you, the blame, the disgust, I know of it all too well”   
“Shut up, dh’oine!” Ciaran hissed as he held Roche, but Iorveth looked back at Signe, prying her hands from his clothing and bringing her forward. He took a deep sigh as he traced his grimy and bloodied fingers over her lower lip.   
“He does speak the truth”, Iorveth said silently to Signe and she looked up into his eye, frowning. “Tell me, en’ca minne, does it change anything? Does it take away your suffering? Will it erase anything within you?”   
“What do you mean?” Signe’s voice sounded raspy, as if her throat had thickened and she just hadn’t noticed it.   
“The commander has relinquished his use for a life, though, as by right, so have I”, Iorveth said, not letting her go with his eye.   
“No”, Signe shook her head, “No, I won’t have that”   
“And what, pray tell, shall I do?” Iorveth said, “Nothing will ever make up for what has been done to you” 

Signe could hear the archers standing behind Ciaran whisper between themselves as Iorveth held her chin in a light grip, stroking his thumb against her skin, lightly touching her lower lip as he spoke. It was all too obvious, wasn’t it? Signe looked around and up the hill, she saw Philippa and Saskia, along with king Henselt and the now chained up Dethmold watch them carefully. It was all clear, everyone knew now and those who didn’t know, would know soon enough. She could see that Iorveth saw it as well as she did, and his hand remained on her chin as he studied her expression with his sole emerald eye, not even looking over at the held back commander, snarling in Ciaran’s grip.   
“You do what you must”, Signe said and looked up at Iorveth. Iorveth nodded once, before he let go of her chin and strode over to Roche.


	31. Nocturnal Forest

Ele’yas groaned as he trailed his hands up her soft stomach, letting his sharp nails dig into her flesh as she moved with precision above him, pushing him in and out of her with every slight movement of her hips, as she ground herself against him. Her hair hung down over her face as she steadied her hands on his chest, her full lips, heart shaped and the same colour as deeply pink summer roses. Her nipples stood stiff as he reached up and cupped his hands over her breasts, encasing them within his grasp, the little buds stoking against the skin of his palm.   
He couldn’t allow her to have other men. She, was his. _His_ , and no one else’s. Iorveth certainly didn’t share his little dh’oine whore, even though he obviously took others to bed. So why would Ele’yas need to share the one he loved with others? It was a man’s right to take what he wanted and demand that thing to remain within his grasp. Iorveth had done just that with Signe, and she remained. So why couldn’t his own love keep herself to him? Didn’t she understand his feelings towards her? Everything he did, he did for her. 

Teha, was her name. She seldom told it, a name was precious and prone to curses. But Ele’yas would never curse his love, his minne. He couldn’t. Teha, with her lush brown hair, cascading like waves over her shoulders and her breasts as she rode him, as if taming a beast. She knew just what he needed, what he liked and how to give him just that. Her enchanting moans made him come undone every time, and should he take another to bed, it was Teha he saw before him. He could spend hours kissing her sweat-slicked body within the dim lights of her lair. She put his skin on fire in the best kind of way and he simply couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t possible.   
How he had missed her, when he’d been away from Vergen with Iorveth’s commando. He’d longed for her every day in the forests outside Flotsam, wanting her and imagining her as he took himself in hand, as he fucked others. But they were never anything like _her_. He even tried bedding other succubae, but it just wasn’t the same. 

Ele’yas grabbed her hips and threw her down from above him. She shouted with a little surprise, but started giggling as he lay over her, pushing himself down between her spread, enticing legs. She really was every bit as marvellous as she always was. Her dark eyes flickering up to him as she mewled her pleasure when he touched her. His dick throbbed as he stroked it against her soft, wet cunt and he couldn’t help himself as he pushed two fingers inside her, only to pull them out and bring them to his lips, tasting her, before he pushed inside her again. She tasted like honeyed flowers and rich wine, the sweetest taste he’d ever had and as he leaned down to kiss her, she bit into his lip with her sharp, feral teeth, drawing a moan from him as he began to thrust inside her.

Ele’yas, still being rather young for an elf, never finished inside her. He could sometimes entertain the idea of impregnating her. He’d give her another succubae, because that’s how they all came to be. They were children between their own kind and elves, some of them resembling elves more than others, but retaining their special features. Ele’yas liked that idea, but it wasn’t for him to decide and now wasn’t the time. Especially since he couldn’t trust in that her falling with child, would be due to him spending himself inside her. He needed her to be pure, to be faithful to him alone.   
But Teha refused to listen to his pleading, and that infuriated him beyond what he thought possible. It made him murderous. The pleasure he found in murdering those she lured into her lair, was beyond anything he’d ever felt whilst killing before. Most pleasure, he got from killing the dh’oine she’d slept with. Those so unworthy of her, he thought it base and disgusting to even think about it. 

When he pulled out and with a heavy groan spent himself on her soft stomach, he looked up and right into her large eyes, heaving heavily as he rested on one outstretched arm, the other one still stroking himself slowly, enjoying the last bit of pleasure provided to him for now. The last bit of outlet before he had to return to Vergen and to the tense notion of a war he really didn’t feel like fighting just now.   
It was almost painful for Ele’yas to force himself away from Teha, but he had to. Iorveth would have his head if he were gone for too long. 

 

He came back to peace. A peace along with an enraged commander who, as soon as Ele’yas walked into their camp, spent a good time shouting at him whilst gesticulating harshly into the air, his rolling R:s sounding especially daunting this time. Ele’yas couldn’t do else but to apologize, though he couldn’t help but to send Iorveth knowing looks. Because Ele’yas knew what Iorveth had done. He could easily see the gazes Neave threw Iorveth’s way, and the disgusting snarls he directed towards Signe. It was obvious Signe saw them too, but perhaps to her, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But Ele’yas couldn’t help but to wonder, why she didn’t seem to do something about it. She remained with Iorveth, still, she couldn’t be completely oblivious to what she had witnessed that night, a week prior in the tavern?   
Ele’yas nodded and promised to make good, as Iorveth seemed to tire of screaming at him. He had more important things to see to, obviously, as he walked out of their camp with Signe’s neck in an iron grip, pushing her before him as if she was a prisoner. Well, she wasn’t far from it. But Ele’yas could hear the whispers between the elves gathered in the camp. Many had suspected, but the thought of it seeming too absurd for them to even think it to be true. But their commander, Iorveth, had a dh’oine mistress.   
Sure, Ele’yas had known for quite some time. He hadn’t known when it had started exactly, but even since they left Flotsam behind, he knew. He had walked in on them, after all.   
But now? After everything, it eluded him, how Signe could keep being at Iorveth’s side. What had happened in Henselt’s camp, was nothing short of atrocious and Iorveth had a part in it, surely. Still, the dh’oine remained, seeming ever loyal to their commander, to her lover. Whatever it was that she was, a prisoner or mistress, or both, she seemed to be content with her role. 

As Ele’yas watched Iorveth and Signe depart from the camp, his eyes fell on two slit yellow eyes watching him from afar. Hidden, but still ever so clear, as if meaning for Ele’yas to know, he was being watched. The Gwynbleidd.

*

That strange and slightly frightening mage, had been beheaded and Vernon Roche had been put in shackles and transported to the dungeons. For reasons Signe couldn’t quite understand, Saskia and Iorveth allowed for that white haired man to come and go as he pleased, even though she had told Iorveth of his nature and how he wasn’t trustable. Perhaps there was something about witchers, not allowing for their capture on mere suspicions. She didn’t know, and neither did she ask, as they all sat down for a victory dinner in Saskia’s house. It wasn’t a lavish ordeal at all, but the alcohol was flowing and the meat stew was hearty as every other stew served in this world that she had tasted before. The bread was freshly made and around her, people cheered and laughed. Saskia was the centre of attention and Signe thought it ever so deserving. She liked Saskia and as strange as it had felt in the beginning, her doubts about Iorveth due to Saskia, was washed away. Instead, Signe kept close to Iorveth and Ciaran throughout the feast, sipping her ale and chewing on the crusts of the delicious bread.  
Bread, was something she was beginning to find a new love for. Sure, she had always liked it, but in this world, freshly baked bread with a thick crust, was as close to heaven as she could imagine it right there and then. During her months here, stretching closer and closer to a year, she had had too much stale bread and stews, tasting more of lukewarm water in which someone at some point had boiled cabbage.

Iorveth was deep into some argument with Ciaran at the moment and Signe reached out and touched one of his hands, resting on his thigh. Iorveth turned to look at her, smoke sipping out from between his lips and she entwined her fingers with his. He said nothing about it, instead squeezed her hand and kept up the conversation with Ciaran.   
Signe noticed how the other nobles still kept their distance from the Scoia’tael and she supposed she couldn’t blame them, even though she thought it cowardly of them. Without Iorveth and the Scoia’tael, Vergen would have fallen to Henselt. 

The witcher, Geralt, sat not all too far away from Iorveth, but remained in conversation with his dwarven friend, Zoltan, was it? Signe found she had a difficult time keeping up with all the names of everyone. The dwarves all looked alike, with their beards and bad table manners and there was just something about them that she didn’t like. She couldn’t really tell what it was, perhaps it was the feeling of men being shorter than her, was uncomfortable to her somehow. It felt almost insane thinking about it, but she was used to men being tall, much taller than herself and to suddenly be surrounded by these short ones, well, it added to all the strangeness she was already surrounded by.   
As the evening wore on, the people all around was beginning to become more and more rowdy and drunk, while Signe felt herself more tired. She was uncomfortable with the smell of drunkenness around her, their behaviour and the fact that she was surrounded by a large amount of drunken men. She squeezed Iorveth’s hand and he turned to her with question in his eye.   
Signe leaned into him, resting her other hand against his shoulder, “I think I’d wish to retire for the evening”, she said and Iorveth nodded, frowning.   
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked in a murmur, low, as if still trying to keep whatever it was that they had under some resemblance of a hush-hush thing, while at the same time he sat there, in front of all these people, holding her hand.   
“I think I could make it up to our room alone, without trouble”, Signe said and gave him an easily, but small smile.   
“It’s a large estate, dh’oine, lots of people around”, he said and Signe frowned, shaking her head.   
“Really, it’s fine”, she squeezed his hand again.   
“No”, he shook his head, “Come on”, he said and rose from his chair. He nodded towards Saskia, but said nothing else, as he touched Signes shoulder, leading her out of the vast dining room. 

They walked through corridors and up the stairs. He had been right, there was a lot of people here, gathered, and she hadn’t even noticed them coming as she sat by that large table with the others. But she felt safe as Iorveth walked at her side, the unease in her stomach wasn’t there, the one that had made itself known when at the table, smelling and noticing how the men around her became more and more drunk with every minute passing by.   
Iorveth seemed to ignore the looks they got as they walked past people, their hand entwined and Signe tried to do the same. But instead, she couldn’t help but to search the areas around her for predatory eyes of soldiers she would recognize from Henselt’s camp, sometimes believing the large eyes she meet as being one of those belonging to any of the human males that had done _that_ to her. Iorveth’s hand snaked around her waist in a protective grip as she stiffened, and she felt relieved to be able to lean against him, as they walked the last stairs up to the private quarters of Saskia’s estate.   
When they entered their room, she could finally breathe out. She shrugged off her coat as she walked into the room, laying it over a chest standing in front of the large bed. Iorveth walked over to the hearth, the embers there glowing and he poked at them, adding on to the burning and soon, a revived fire sparkled, devouring the wooden chunks that Iorveth had fed it. 

Signe sat on the bed, and began to unlace her high boots, as Iorveth came and kneeled before her. His long, spider-like fingers removing her own, as he began to undo the laces of her boots, pulling them off of her legs and feet.   
“You don’t have to do that”, Signe said silently, watching him.   
“Perhaps not”, he said, moving on to the other leg and boot, repeating the process.   
When he’d removed the other boot, he looked up at her, his green eye large and shining, filled with, was it concern?   
His eyebrow was swollen around the small cut, and his cheekbone was bluish yellow and swollen. He looked completely battered after his fight with Roche, but as she looked down on him, she didn’t feel frightened. He was a man, but not a human man. Surely he would be capable of exactly the same things as those human men had been. But she knew his stance on rape as such. He didn’t allow it and from what he could control, he punished those who did.   
Signe reached out and traced one of Iorveth’s ears with two light fingers, her thumb resting on his bandana as she looked at him. He was achingly beautiful, in every way possible and she wanted him, she wanted him so badly. But she couldn’t, the mere thought of _that_ , had her recoil and Iorveth noticed, but did nothing. He sat silently and still at her feet, not touching her as she frowned and looked down on her hand.   
“I-“, she hesitated and Iorveth lifted his head to watching her expression with a strangely kind expression of his own. “I want you”, she said, “But I don’t… I don’t know if I can…”   
Iorveth shook his head, lifting his hands and resting them on her knees, “You do not have to, en’ca minne”, he said, “What’s happened… I, I understand if it’ll take time, if ever. I won’t leave you because of it”   
“But you need… You need-“, Signe stopped herself and Iorveth frowned as he looked up at her, “A release. You’re a man”   
“What’s that’s suppose to mean?” Iorveth’s jaws clenched tight and a snarl came to his lips.   
“That elf…”, Signe said, “I-“   
“ _No_ ”, Iorveth stood up before her, his emerald eye turning dark.   
“Listen to me!” Signe demanded, breath caught in her throat as she stared into Iorveth’s eye. “I don’t know what happened and, really, I don’t know if I care. Yes, if something did, I don’t like it. But I understand if you can’t just be bound to me, and me alone”   
“Damn you, dh’oine!” Iorveth snarled, his eye looking furious, “You’re not my _whore_ , so don’t fucking reduce yourself to that! I don’t need a bloede release. What I fucking _need_ , is you”, he raked his hands over his face, twitching as he touched the swollen parts of his face.  
Signe stood up from the bed and walked over to Iorveth, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands down, “What is done, is done”, she said, “I don’t believe me your whore, Iorveth. But I don’t think I’ll be able to… For a while”   
“And I don’t care”, Iorveth more or less hissed, letting Signe hold on to his wrists and standing completely still. “I’m here, if you’ll have me”   
“I will”, Signe closed in on him, her bare feet touching his leather boots as she stood on her toes and reached up, ghosting her lips over his, “I don’t want anyone else, can’t imagine anyone else”   
“I’m sorry”, Iorveth breathed as their lips were mere millimetres from each other.   
“I know”, Signe said and let go of his wrists, reaching up and clasping his neck, their lips crashing against one another and Iorveth’s hands went around her waist. Their lips moved, and Signe let her tongue slide against Iorveth’s lower lip and he easily opened his mouth for her, careful in letting her tongue enter him first, before he answered her with his own. 

This felt right, ever so right and something stirred within Signe. Something good and so far away from what even the thoughts of this had stirred in her even a day prior. She reached up and touched Iorveth’s ear, reminding herself that it was him, not a human. It was Iorveth, not one of the soldiers forcing his lips on her. Iorveth would let her pull back whenever she needed. He had done so before, letting her take the reins and leaving it all up to her. He didn’t force her, didn’t touch her if she shied away. His hands around her waist was possessive, but not chaining and she felt herself lean against him and a secure warmth spread through her.   
“Could we…”, Signe drew back from him, looking up at him, “Go to bed?”  
“Are you certain?” Iorveth asked, looking concerned with his eyebrows knitted.   
Signe nodded quietly and began to undress as she moved towards the bed, “Maybe you need a bath”, she said, after a while, when Iorveth had gotten most of his armour off, leaving him in his trousers and the shift closest to his body. It was yellowed by sweat and stained with blood and grime and she could see him looking himself over slightly.   
“Too late to call on one of the servants, I’ll just use the bason”, he said and Signe nodded as she crawled into the bed, covering herself with the thick covers. 

Iorveth had always seemed completely unfazed by his own nakedness, and Signe found that she enjoyed watching him as he cleaned himself. He was, in more ways than she could even begin to tell, the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. He stood stark naked with his back to her, as he folded up his bandana, still keeping his hair out of the way and washed his face. Then, he went on to wash his arms and armpits, going over his entire body, before ending with washing his genitals. The two dimples on his lower back twitched, as Iorveth did, every now and again, every last piece of his body doing that very thing here and there. His broad shoulders moving, muscles rippled through his body has he dried off and then reached up to remove his bandana. His hair always fell into his face in an instant – the raven black strands framing his destroyed face so beautifully. When he turned, Signe couldn’t help but to smile, he looked so different when he was rid of all his armour and cloth, encasing him. Like this, he was imply a rather skinny, lithe but still heavily muscled man with the tips of his ears pointing out from his hair. His hair graced his sharp cheekbones and his well-formed lips was tightly shut, but missing that typical snarl he wore.   
“Come”, Signe said and lifted her cover. She wasn’t naked, still dressed in her shift, but she loved when Iorveth was naked beside her and she moved over slightly, as he laid himself down beside her. She caught his lips in a deep kiss, catching his wrists and guiding his hands to her body.   
She needed him. She couldn’t have him inside her, not yet, but they had done touching and they could keep trying it. Keep moving closer to _that_ part of their bodies. Eventually, she might not feel trapped, might not feel the unease creep up on her at the same time as her body was swallowed in the beginnings of ecstasy as Iorveth’s fingers traced her. It was easier if he wasn’t above her, but still remained where she could see him. Then she felt secure, she felt certain that it was still him. If she could reach up and touch one of his ears, a cheekbone, something that was so typically not human, then she couldn’t be back _there_. 

She reached down over his stomach and Iorveth’s breath hitched as she stroked his skin, their kisses intensified and his long, elegant fingers drew circles over her waist and hips as his arms reached around her, shielding her. She let her hand wander, and soon, she felt his hard erection and Iorveth stopped kissing her, just looked at her deeply and Signe looked back, tracing her fingertips over his cock.   
“How’s that?” he asked as he reached up and stroked her hair, “Stop whenever you want, it’s not-“   
Signe interrupted him, “I want to”, she said and Iorveth nodded once, leaning in to kiss her again, “Please, touch me”, she said, and Iorveth’s kiss deepened as he trailed his hands over her body. At first, he kept his hands above her shift, stroking her hips, lightly and carefully stroking over her breasts. She moaned and pressed herself into his hand, gripping his girth harder and his breathing turned shallow as she stroked his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock. It still felt right, and she moved closer to him, lifting her leg over his hip and Iorveth’s hand stroked down over her thigh, pushing her shift up over her hip. He carefully touched the mound of her sex, letting his fingers rake slowly through the coarse hair growing there in a shielding triangle. She touched his face, as they kept on kissing languidly, panting into each other’s mouths. When the tips of two of his fingers touched her clit, she almost jerked back and Iorveth removed his hand immediately, but Signe guided it back.   
“Just startled me”, she whispered and Iorveth nodded, pressing his lips to hers again as he started drawling small circles around her clit, smearing her wetness out. “Iorveth?” Signe said against his lips.   
“Yes?” he answered, a silent murmur.   
“Can you please speak to me, I want to know you’re here. That it’s always you”  
“Of course”, he whispered, pressing his fingers a little more firmly against her, still circling in a steady rhythm, “I will not leave you, minne”, he said, his breath hitching as she continued to stroke him, as he did the same to her, “I’ll promise to be here, to do everything I can for you. I’ll never let you out of my sight, I only want you right here, where you are just now. Doesn’t matter where we are, Signe, so long as I have you here with me”   
“I love you”, Signe breathed as she felt her orgasm build up and eventually burst out within her, her muscles clenching and convulsing, as Iorveth kept stroking her easily, with a seldom seen tenderness to his fingers.   
“I love you”, he breathed and Signe clasped around his cock, her orgasm taking over her completely. Iorveth remained still and, perhaps, she didn’t know exactly, too caught up in her body’s pleasure bursting through her, but maybe she could feel him twitch, holding himself back from buckling against her, thrusting into her hand. As she came down, panting, Iorveth removed his hand and stroked her thigh as she stroked him faster and faster. His breath became even more shallow and his eyebrows knitted and his lips fell open and Signe leaned in to kiss him and soon, with a deep groan, she felt his muscles tighten and she could feel the warm spurts of his seed against her lower abdomen and sex, as he came, his head burrowed into the crook of her neck. She released his cock and brought her hand up to stroke away his hair, as she hugged him into her bosom, whilst he lay there, still panting.   
She pressed her nose and mouth against his hair, breathing in deep as she kissed his scalp, “I love you”   
“I love you”, he murmured against the skin of her neck, drawing deep breaths and kissing her.


	32. Chaos After the Storm

“He’s a war-criminal! Nothing more than a terrorist, who I agree has come in handy in these resent endeavours with removing Kaedwen from our gates, but now? He’s formerly given his services to Nilfgaard, what stops him from doing so now? I admit, he was a means to an end, but having a Squirrel as commander of our forces? There’s a prize on his head in all the northern realms, and with good reason! Saskia, hear me, Iorveth must be punished!” 

“It matters not that what he’s done for Vergen and Aedirn, that he has saved us from the retched chains of the Kaedweni, for he’s naught but a butcher, a petty criminal in the end and a racist to boot. This charade he plays with keeping that strange human woman at his side, it might as well be nothing more than a farce to gain our trust” 

“Saskia, dear lady, I beg thee, hear our concerns. You’ve allied with a mass murderer, one who slaughters innocents without even blinking twice. I understand your need for his help during these desperate times, but those are over. We have our freedom, but for others to respect our sovereignty, we need to dispose of Iorveth and his likes. He does naught but keep a constant thorn in the side of our possible allies, and what say it of us, that we harbour a war-criminal at our bosom, giving him free rein of our forces?” 

 

Iorveth sat unmoving at the large round table in the council. Beside him, Saskia sat, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair so hard, her knuckles were turning white as she quietly listened to the nobility venting their every concern. Signe stood behind Iorveth, a hand resting on his shoulder as if trying to calm him through her touch alone. She knew it was impossible at best, but what else could she do? Somehow, the entire nobility turning on the Scoia’tael now that the most immediate danger was over, didn’t seem all that far fetched in any case. In history, this had happened thousands upon thousands of times. A perfect example from her own world, was the on and off fate of the Irish Republican Army and when she thought about it, the similarities between the IRA and Scoia’tael was striking. A rebel army, deemed terrorists because they fought with dirty means towards an end they viewed as in need of those harsh methods. They weren’t wrong either, Signe thought. The Aen Seidhe had been suppressed and exposed to the most fanatical racism she’d seen – and she’d heard the rumours coming from Germany. But what was done to the Aen Seidhe here, was nothing short of atrocious.   
Under her hand resting on Iorveth’s shoulder, she felt his small twitches, those he couldn’t seem to hide behind his statuesque features as he took in the criticism from the nobility. 

“He’s slaughtered our men before, what stops him now from doing just so again?” another noble continued, not even daring to cast a glance towards Iorveth and instead, shaking as he stood, focusing on Saskia, “He claims to be of a mind with you, your highness, but he’s naught but an old elf who’s spent his entire life fighting a loosing cause. How can you expect him to now live in peace amongst those he so desperately and with his whole being, hate? This façade!” the noble now turned and waved towards Iorveth and Signe, his eyes sharp as daggers as he pointed straight at Signe, “Is nothing more than a charade to put us at ease! Are we to believe this elven terrorist trusts in any human woman, so much as to keep her by his side like this, without an ulterior motif? If naught else, it shows of his blunt morals, for whatever this trollop is, slave, prisoner or whore, it’s a disgrace!” 

Signe felt Iorveth seething underneath her hand and she looked intensely on the noble who now sat back down in his chair, meeting his dark eyes with fierceness. “How dare you?” Signe snarled, trying to keep her voice in check as she stared the noble down. The man, skinny and as far from a soldier than she’d ever seen, seemed to sink back into his chair as she drew her lips back, showing her teeth. “I care not for your racism and your utterly distasteful allegories and assumptions, but to sit here, safe and sound after a battle, a battle the Aen Seidhe of the Scoia’tael has given their lives to win and to _accuse_ your commander of being nothing but a war-criminal! Do you know what those words even mean? Do you realize, what a war-criminal is?!” Signe seethed through her teeth, her eyes sparkling with fury and her cheeks blushing with red hot anger. “And, sir, who are you to decide upon who I am to the commander? I see not how this at all plays into the actions he performed during the saving of your Virgin Queen, nor the battle with the Kaedweni! You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves for how you allow your racism to cloud your judgement!”   
“Signe”, Iorveth breathed quietly and Signe’s fingers dug into his shoulder as she took a deep breath.   
“ _No_ ”, she said, straightening her back as she stood and she could feel all eyes on her. They were all gathered there around the table. The dwarves, the nobles, the witcher was standing further away in a corner of the room, leaning causally against the wall, remaining casual in his approach. Behind her, she knew Ciaran and a few others of the Scoia’tael stood, watching and listening.   
“How dare you speak?” another noble pointed straight at Signe, his lips quivering as Signe noticed Iorveth’s hands turning white as he too, clutched the armrests of his chair, “You have no business here, whatever it is that you claim to be, a whore to the elves or a sorceress! I demand you leave this room at once!” the noble’s voice pitched in an almost undignified manner and it was clear he was shaking, terrified but still too angry and upset to stop himself.   
“Hold your tongue, you miserable-“, Iorveth was interrupted by Saskia who rose and held her hand up.   
“Enough of this!” she said in an angered tone, “Iorveth and his Scoia’tael has fought gallantly for us, for us to regain the freedom we have strived for, and is this how you thank your saviours? By humiliating them and asking for their death, for acts that comes with war? No, Iorveth will not be punished. I will not allow it and so shall you all listen and hear me, because without the valour of the Scoia’tael, we wouldn’t be here today! I do not condone everything that has been done in the past, but that is just what it is – the past. We have begun a new chapter and we will prevail through all, for our freedom and for the equality of all our races gathered into our beloved city. Iorveth will not be punished for bygone deeds and I urge you to leave it at that, or else you will force me to prove to you once again, that I am no mild regent, nor am I above punishing those who makes themselves deserving of punishment. However, Iorveth is none of these, nor is the Scoia’tael. We must prevail, together as one and leave our differences behind! For the sake of Aedirn and for the sake of our hard-fought freedom!” 

“And yet you seem to find it fitting to punish the Temerian officer, Vernon Roche?” another noble piped up, “He did not even fight on Henselt’s side and still, he receives harsher punishments than those prisoners of war we’re holding from the Kaedweni army!”   
“The punishment of that whoreson has _nothing_ to do with this!” Iorveth growled, shooting up from his chair and leaning out over the table, his sole eye focusing on the questioning noble, “His crimes are of perversions beyond your comprehension, dh’oine!”   
“Perversions such as your own, _squirrel_?” the noble seethed and Iorveth almost flew over the table in a violent outburst, but Ciaran was behind him in a second, pulling him back and Signe again circled her arm behind his neck and rested her hand on his shoulder, easily stroking the skin of his neck in a soothing manner.   
“Enough!” Saskia bashed her fist into the table, “I will not stand for this! It is undignified and most of all, it is ungrateful!”   
“Holding a Temerian officer prisoner without proper cause is undignified!” the noble shouted, “What are his crimes? We’ve not been told anything of them, and still, he remains within our dungeons! Are we to except no trial? No statements of his crimes? It will cause a war as soon as the next in line of Temeria’s dynasty takes the throne!”   
“We know nothing of King Foltest surviving children, nor the claimants to the Temerian throne as of yet, my lord!” Saskia bit back at the raging noble.   
“And what difference does that make?” the noble shouted, consumed by his own rage and hatred towards the Scoia’tael. Signe did her best to keep Iorveth calm as she stood behind him. Ciaran remained close to them both, ready to hinder any other outburst of Iorveth’s.   
“I’ll not stand for this!” Iorveth seethed through his teeth and stood up, “I provided you with a victory, leaving the city of Vergen a free city for all, and this is how me and mine are repaid? With fanatical racism and a defence for Temeria? Their king was a rotten bastard who used his own children as pieces of a game, shuffling them as it suited him, just like all you lordlings do. I will not sit here and listen to you barbarians fighting over naught, incapable of showing the least bit of gratitude towards those who saved your precious hides! You’re nothing but ungrateful dh’oine, perfectly showing how undeserving you are of your queen and the land upon which you find yourselves on”, he snarled and then turned to Saskia, “Again, Saskia, say the word and we’ll depart. My work here is done, I only ask to bring Vernon Roche with me”   
“Out of the question, Iorveth”, Saskia said, “You will not leave. We’re not so ungrateful as to force your presence from our city, due to arguments amongst the _nobility_ ”   
“Then I suggest you make short work of your lordlings”, Signe said with a snarl on her lips, “It’s been done before and is an excellent means to quiet down those who do not know gratitude when it slams them in the face” 

The first council within the now free city of Vergen, was an intense one. Of course, it was bound to be difficult, seeing as the nobility of Vergen was still highly human, but Signe had not expected such hostility towards those who had saved their skin. Iorveth was upset, rightfully so, as they walked out of the Castle of the Three Fathers, but there was probably little he could do right there and then. They were all heading for Loc Muinne within a few weeks time for the peace talks. It was there, that the peace treaties between Aedirn and Kaedwen would be established, in front of every other kingdom in the north and as such, Iorveth and his Scoia’tael would have to go there as well and that meant, Signe was going too.   
“You did well”, Iorveth said quietly to Signe as they walked between the council's rotunda of the castle and Scoia’tael camp just outside of the city. The camp was due to be removed, and the Scoia’tael would all receive homes inside the city as a gratitude for their work. It seemed as if Iorveth as well, would receive a house in the city, but for now, Iorveth and Signe, along with Ciaran, stayed in Saskia’s estate.   
“I’m sorry”, Signe said, shaking her head, “I should learn to keep my mouth shut. But those noble bastards just get to me, with their imbecilic ignorance and childish outbursts. They understand nothing and cares for nothing but their own wealth”   
“Mm”, Iorveth nodded with a hard-set expression, “Barbarians”, he said under his breath. 

Back in the camp, Signe sat down with Tir whilst Iorveth saw to his archers and the commanders of the gathered commandos. She hadn’t spoken to Tir in ages it felt like, and found herself missing the cheeky elf. Her presence lifted Signe’s mood in an instant as the skinny thing threw her arms around Signe without the least bit of hesitation and held her close for a long time, before letting go.   
“How’re you feeling?” Tir said as they sat down and she looked Signe over with concern in her eyes. “Do you still hurt? Can you remember things now?”   
“Unfortunately, yes”, Signe said and nodded carefully, “And I don’t hurt that much, now. The sorceress did a fine job when she healed me”   
Tir nodded, looking slightly concerned, but still glad as her large eyes seemed to go over Signe, to make sure what she said was indeed true. “But, how are you? I’m so glad to see you’re all right from the battle”, she took Tir’s hand and held it, squeezing it, and Tir smirked.   
“Of course I’m fine, dh’oine!” she sniggered playfully and Signe smiled, “Even kept count on how many dh’oine bastards I killed. I won over Faen, can you believe that?”   
“Of course I can”, Signe smirked, now used to the hostility within the Scoia’tael towards humans. She didn’t take offence, as she knew Tir didn’t really view her as a ‘proper’ human in any case. It seemed, with those that liked her, that she was more of something in between a human and an elf, and therefore more easily accepted. “How many did you win by?”   
“Four”, Tir smiled with satisfaction and Signe pushed her playfully.   
“And in total?” Signe asked.   
“27”, Tir wriggled her eyebrows.   
“Jesus Christ”, Signe shook her head. She was beginning to get used to the kill-counts, but still, they seemed abnormal to her. Those 27 kills, were actual _people_ , but she also supposed that during any war, you had to detach yourself from those thoughts. She knew that what the nobles in the council had said, was true. Iorveth was a mass-murderer. But what soldier wasn’t? He was incredibly old and during that vast him, living as he had done, as a rebel of sorts, a soldier and a freedom fighter, he killed. He’d killed countless of humans and even gained some resemblance of pleasure from it. Thinking about it from her own point of view, it was sick – a sick behaviour, but she herself, had to detach herself from those thoughts, or else almost everyone in her close vicinity would be deemed as sick and foul creatures. No one escaped the dread from war and from unrest. It was not something the people in this world could remove themselves from. They had to endure it. This world, was harsh and when it came down to it, it was to kill or be killed. It was as easy as that. 

On their way back to Saskia’s estate, the witcher walked up to Iorveth and asked to speak with him, privately. Iorveth looked to Signe and then nodded, gesticulating for Ciaran to bring her back to the estate, whilst he spoke to the witcher. Signe looked back over her shoulder with curious and at the same time, suspicious eyes as Iorveth stood with the equally tall and white-haired man, his arms crossed over his chest and his chiselled, beautiful elven features narrowed and careful.   
Just before she and Ciaran turned a corner, she looked back again and then she saw Iorveth snarling as he gesticulated harshly towards the witcher, as if spitting in rage.

*

This bloede day was never-ending, it seemed. Not only had he had to suffer through that blasted council meeting, then, after he’d been by the camp to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be, the Gwynbleidd had approached him. And blamed one of his best men for the murders of several dh’oine in the city. He couldn’t present Iorveth with any real proof and therefore, Iorveth demanded he’d find some before he came accusing his men of being lustful murderers. It was an accusation as old as the dh’oine themselves, speaking of elves taking children and sacrificing them, eating them – as well as murdering dh’oine without fair cause. The Scoia’tael were murderers, indeed, but there was always a reason behind the kills, a fair reason. And this, it grinded on his last nerve for the day. If, Ele’yas had something to do with this, Iorveth would have no other choice but to kill him for it, and that’s the last thing he actually _wanted_ , but due to the tensions within the council, if it were to be true and it became public knowledge, that one of his men had gone about killing dh’oine out of simple jealousy? Iorveth shook his head. This was so far form what he needed at this point, and worse, he couldn’t find Ele’yas anywhere. He was not in camp, nor was he at the Cauldron or anywhere else in the city.  
It was worrying, the way Ele’yas had disappeared every now and again, being nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was at the estate with Signe? They had been growing close and Ele’yas had taken great care of her, during her worst time. He should really go and see about Roche, press him on information, he needed to decide what to do with the commander. But an accusation such as this, towards one of his own men? He needed to deal with that, first and foremost. 


	33. The Red Blaze of Freedom

“ _’Twas barbarian dh’oine bade our wild geese go, that ‘Aen Seidhe might be free’; Their lonely graves are by Pontar’s waves or the fringe of the great Skellige Sea_ ”, one of the Aen Seidhe sang, whilst another played his flute as they all had gathered outside the city gates in the Scoia’tael camp, “ _Oh, had they died by Riordain’s side or fought with the Virhedd Brigade, their graves we’d keep, where the Scoia’tael’s sleep, ‘neath the shroud of the foggy dew._ ”

Many of the songs they sang, were reminiscent of their battles and the history of the Scoia’tael. Of how they had been used in times before, used and abused, only to be thrown away again, when they had served their purpose to their dh’oine lords. Signe was beginning to recognize the pattern and she could understand the Aen Seidhe’s plight, even though she didn’t know all their history.  
Iorveth sat beside her, leaned back against a large rock as they listened to the song, whilst drinking honeyed ale and watching the sparkling fire in front on them. Signe was occupying herself with braiding a headband to keep her hair from falling into her face, only just seeing what she did from the light from the fire as the song went on.  
“ _Oh, the bravest fell, and the requiem flute sounded mournfully and clear, for those who died this autumn tide, in the late time of the year. And the realms do gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few, who bore the fight that freedom’s light might shine through the foggy dew._ ”  
“ _As back through the glen’s I’ll go again, and my heart with grief is sore, for I parted then, with valiant men, whom I never shall see no more. But to and fro in my dreams I go, and I kneel and speak of you. For slavery fled, oh glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew._ ”

The mournful songs always ended with all of them calling out, _The red blaze of freedom! Ymladda dh’oine, ess’tedd, Aen Seidhe!_ , sometimes with more anger and fight in them, than tonight, where they instead mourned those lost in freeing Vergen and batteling the Kaedweni. Iorveth said the words along with his men and then they all drank for them, still sitting down on the ground.  
So many years of living in the forests, without a roof over their head. Signe wondered if Iorveth would ever be able to just live like a normal person, in a home. Had he ever? She didn’t rightly know and she hadn’t asked either. Iorveth didn’t speak much of his life before this, though she knew he was married and had children, somewhere. It was like a skeleton he hid deep within him and if she even tried to pry a little, he would shut her out and ask her to keep quiet. 

It was a strange thought, all these elves living in a city, instead of out in the forest. As she looked around, she wondered how either of them would manage. Perhaps those who had only recently joined and were still young, would be able to assimilate easier, but Iorveth and Ciaran? And those like them? She had a hard time imagining it.  
Iorveth was too restless, too destroyed by the life he’d lead for the last century. Signe looked up over her shoulder and met Iorveth’s large, dark green eye as he watched her. He reached out and touched her cheek with his knuckles and Signe leaned in to his touch. Could she imagine it? Living with him? Normal domesticity, was it even possible? She could hardly imagine him clothed without his armour. It was either complete nakedness, or full on armour, but in normal clothes, a farmer’s clothes? No, she simply couldn’t see it before her. But still, why wouldn’t he be able to surprise her?  
She knew what she wanted. She wanted _him_ , and he had promised her, he wouldn’t leave her.  
How old could the elves become, anyway? There was so much that she didn’t know, so many questions she’d yet to ask. She was only 22 years old, and Iorveth… Somewhere around 160 years old? The thought about that absurd age-difference hadn’t even dawned on her before, but now it did. But, as she had thought before, before she actually knew of his age, he didn’t look older than 35 and so the thought hadn’t proved a problem to her before. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she’d live for another 60, or 70 years, if she lived well and was spared from sickness and accidents. But for how much longer would Iorveth live? She thought about it, and realized she had yet to meet an old elf. They all seemed and looked so very young, no matter their age. The thought made her feel a tinge of distress as she thought about it. Could he live for another 20 years? Or 220 years? 

 

Then, a pain wrecked through her stomach, an aching and dull pain she recognized all too well, and she felt her face become white as realization dawned on her. It was enough suffering through not having running water like she had back home, but every month, she had to suffer through the agony of having her period without sanitary products or the help from painkillers. According to her own calendar, which she kept to keep note of how long she’d been in this world, she wasn’t supposed to have her period for another two weeks or so, but the tell-tale ache in her lower abdomen spoke of something else.  
She turned and leaned in close to Iorveth, whispering, “I need to go back”  
“Why?” he asked, frowning.  
“I-“, why was it even embarrassing? She had done everything in front of him by now, and it’s not like she hadn’t had her period in the months she already spent here. But before, she had been lucky enough to sneak around it, give him hints that he seemed to understand, that kept him from touching her. She never had to say it out loud. She never even spoke about it with her mother, and definitely not with her father.  
Signe remembered so well when she had her first period. She was in school and thought she’d become ill, food poisoning or something of the like, so she ran to the toilet, too afraid to throw up in school, in front of everyone. When she had pulled her cotton underwear down, she was horrified to see the red stain, and as she wiped her nether regions with toilet paper, she had to face the inevitable. She was eleven years old, and only knew a little of what this meant. _Becoming a woman_ , her mother had said once. Sitting on the toilet in school, she had felt the panic rise like bile within her, and after spending almost half an hour just sitting there, she was pulled from her raging thoughts by a knock on the door. It was her teacher, and Signe started crying. Eventually, she dressed and let the teacher inside, shamefully explaining her situation. The teacher had sent her home to her mother, explaining the situation through a letter to her mother, who said little, but helped her with her own home sewn pads. Her mother had started using tampons early, as soon as they came to Stockholm from the USA, but she thought it absurd that her young, virgin daughter would use them as well and so Signe was taught to sew her own pads.  
She had sewn her own pads here too, but of course, they were at Saskia’s estate, along with her other things, and before she soaked her clothes, she needed to get back there.  
“I… I think it’s that time of the month for me”, Signe whispered and Iorveth looked dumb fooled and Signe felt her cheeks heat, “I’m bleeding, _you know_ ”  
“Oh”, he said, frowning, almost looking slightly relieved for a moment, before he stood up and reached his hand out, helping her up, “Well, eh”, he looked around himself, before he waved for Tir to come, “I have some things I need to attend to, take Tir with you and I’ll see you later”, he murmured quietly, stroking Signe’s back.  
“Sure”, Signe nodded, “Thank you”  
Iorveth nodded, one corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he looked at her, “Tir ought to be able to help you with any pain, or perhaps the daerienn”  
“Yes, of course”, Signe said and turned to leave, but Iorveth caught her arm, as Tir approached, and leaned down and kissed her. She felt herself grow stiff, they were in the middle of the camp, surrounded by his Scoia’tael. Everyone seemed to know, sure, but they might accept their relationship out of respect for Iorveth, but few found it even close to proper. The kiss was chaste and as he left her lips, Signe looked up at him with a frown, but said nothing.  
“I’ll see you later, minne”  
Signe nodded and walked away with Tir, having to explain the situation to her was much less daunting and Tir only smiled, promising to make the most delicious honey and milk concoction that was a typically elven remedy to what Tir called ‘a woman’s blessing’.  
How strange this world was, Signe thought as Tir pulled her in close to her, as they walked.

*

Ele’yas was still nowhere to be found, and the vatt’ghern had yet to present Iorveth with any real evidence of Ele’yas guilt, and so after Signe had left with Tir and the other’s at the camp had started to withdraw to their tents, he made his way towards the dungeons. It mattered little what the nobles said of him holding Roche there, it was all groundless blabber from ignorant fools not knowing who they were dealing with. Foltest was dead, and as far as Iorveth knew, they had few that would be able to claim the throne. They might as well fall to Nilfgaard in a foreseeable future. Not that the thought made Iorveth happier, it only served to gladden him as he thought of the anger that would bring Roche, ever so deserving of the worst fate possible.

As he walked down to the dungeons, thankfully still guarded by Scoia’tael, he heard tired moans coming from several cells where they had stored their Kaedweni prisoners. Roche, was further inside the dungeons and so Iorveth kept walking, until he stopped in front of the thick, metal door that lead into the lone, large cell holding the commander inside. He opened the door and found two of his more brutish archers sitting at a rickety table, playing cards and drinking ale. They saluted Iorveth, but other than that, continued on with their gamble, as Iorveth dismissed them. He turned and looked at the sodden sight before him, hanging from chains in the ceiling, dried out and bruised. Grime covering his features, and without his trademark clothing and head-wrap, he looked even more skeletal-like. Roche, was an old man. Of course, not as old as Iorveth, certainly, but he was easily over 40 years old and for a man in his profession, it was an admiral age, having kept himself alive for so long. 

“Vernon Roche”, Iorveth snarled, and at the sound of his voice, Roche peeked up, his head seemingly heavy where he hung. It seemed the guards had had some fun with him, since Iorveth last saw him. But he seemed unscathed. At least Iorveth hadn’t left him in the hands of a rapist madman, even though he deserved as much. “How are our fine dungeons treating you?”  
“Plough yourself”, Roche wheezed, spitting on the stone floor.  
Iorveth pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, “You have to pardon me, old friend, I haven’t had the time to come visit you earlier, what with the apparent victory and all”, Roche looked away from him, his dark eyes lingering on some spot on the floor or other, Iorveth didn’t really care. “Say, what would you have done with me in your stead? Oh”, Iorveth scoffed, “Silly question. I do know what you did, as well at what befell my dh’oine under your _capable_ hands”  
“Loredo was a mistake”, Roche breathed through clenched teeth, “I should have known he was a right bastard”  
Iorveth flew on the bars separating the two commanders, clenching the steel in his hands as he snarled, his sole eye flaming as he looked at Roche, “ _A right bastard_?! Those words does not even begin to describe that monster. And you made use of him, in the most cowardly way possible!”  
Roche moaned as he shook his head, “I’ve no excuse”, he mumbled, not looking at Iorveth. “Do as you will, elf, and be done with it”  
Iorveth laughed, “Vernon Roche, begging for death, what a sight this is”, he smirked, leaning in against the bars, “What would you yourself have done to such a bastard? Cut off his balls? I was planning on giving Dethmold that same forgiveness, though your crimes differs and unfortunately for you, Vernon Roche, your fate lies not in the hands of Saskia, as did Dethmold’s. Your fate, lies in my hands”  
“Well, what a comfort”, Roche gritted his teeth, looking up and meeting Iorveth’s eye.  
Iorveth snorted and smirked slightly, “Indeed”

So, Roche hadn’t ordered Loredo to do what he did. Of course he hadn’t, he had made use of Loredo’s lack of morals, lack of everything except sadism, as it were. Iorveth had done the same thing, using Letho and many others through the years, but neither had effected him this personal before and it twisted his guts to think of it. He couldn’t simply kill him, it was too easy and frankly, Iorveth didn’t necessarily think he deserved it either. He was also surprised that the blonde whore hadn’t come for Roche as of yet, he would have expected her to try and save her commander. But as of yet, nothing had happened. No, Roche was, unfortunately too much like himself. A relic, fighting for a cause that most seemed to deem as lost. It was what made them both dangerous. In many ways, they were one and the same, two sides of the same coin and Iorveth could respect that. He could, however, not respect what Roche’s actions had led to. He couldn’t respect nor accept what had happened to Signe. Roche, had to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ymladda dh’oine, ess’tedd, Aen Seidhe – Fight the humans, it is time, Aen Seidhe


	34. A Quiet Corner

Tir had left and Iorveth hadn’t returned. Is was the middle of the night. The exact time, Signe couldn’t know. But she lit another candle as she looked around the room. As she stood up, she could feel the blood run through her, landing in the pad bound around her hips like some kind of grown up diaper held in place by a belt. She sighed as she walked over to the basin with water, taking some of the water and putting it in a smaller bowl to use for washing herself. When she felt somewhat fresh again, and with a new pad between her legs, she let her old pad soak in steaming water as she dressed. It was hard enough trying to sleep alone, but with her period in it’s beginning stage, which was the worst, she only trashed around, never finding a comfortable enough position.   
And where was Iorveth? She knew well enough that he sometimes stayed out until the early hours of the morning, but he hadn’t said anything about it before she left the camp. 

As she put her feet into a pair of softer, easier boots than the ones she usually wore, these were of elven craft with soft fur on the inside and she revelled in their cosiness. They felt the slippers she used to wear back home during the winter months, just slightly more crude in their design. Another tunic to cover her shift as well as her coat, and she was out of her room, silently sneaking past the other closed bedroom doors of Saskia’s estate, as she made her way downstairs. There were none of the Scoia’tael guards usually present, only Saskia’s own guards watching, and they said nothing to her. They remained wary towards Iorveth and his lot, and apparently, Signe was part of them, even though she was obviously as human as the guards were. She didn’t care, it only felt strange that there were no guards around.   
She continued down to the basement, having never been there and she figured that there weren’t any danger in exploring Saskia’s estate, since there were no other people there, than guards and those living there. The basement was lit up by burning coals, hanging from the walls in smaller iron caskets and Signe walked the long corridors, looking into the different rooms. They really didn’t contain much, except for the servants quarters and storage. But then, she stumbled on a hatch in the floor. It was broad and beautifully decorated. Somehow, it felt forbidden, but she couldn’t help herself as she lifted the hatch to peek down. 

“What are you doing?”   
Signe dropped the handle and the hatch shut close again with a smack, as she whipped around and saw Ele’yas stand before her with his arms crossed over his chest. His hair was drawn back behind his ears and he wore a cold frown on his face, his dark eyes glowing in the darkness as he watched her. Signe cleared her throat and stood up, brushing off her trousers. “Nothing”, she said, looking at Ele’yas. “What are you doing down here?”   
Ele’yas smirked, but said nothing as he walked over to her, touching her cheek and stroking his thumb over her jaw, “Do you trust me, dh’oine?”   
“Why?” Signe frowned, looking up at him.  
“Do you?” he forced, his hand clasping her jaw harder.   
“Yes, yes!” she shook her head slightly, “Of course I do, Elias”   
Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed her, his full lips soft and tasting of something sweet as he spread her lips with his own. His hand on her jaw moved back and he cupper the back of her head as he teased her with his tongue. Without thinking, Signe answered the kiss, but didn’t touch him, instead she more or less hung in his grip as he continued the kissing, searching deeper into her with his tongue, tasting her and sucking on her lips. When he drew back, he remained with his lips close to hers, only breathing as she felt his hand fist in the back of her neck. 

“What are you doing?” Signe breathed, not pushing him away, but not moving closer to him. He was dangerous when he needed to be, she knew. She also knew that Iorveth had been worried about him for some time, Ele’yas disappearing and then, from out of nowhere, turning up again as if nothing had happened.   
“Tasting you”, he said quietly and licked his lips, then took her lips into his again, devouring her mouth as he pushed her back against the wall, pressing himself against her. Signe suddenly panicked, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge and he kept kissing her.   
“Eli-“, Signe tried to interrupt the kissing, “Eli… Stop!” and he pulled back, looking at her with dark eyes.   
“ _What_?” he hissed, searching her face, “You want this”   
“No, no”, Signe shook her head, “I don’t and I can’t, so you have to stop”, she said, her hands pressed against his chest, holding him off.   
“How can you allow him to do this to you?” Ele’yas frowned as he leaned his forehead against hers, “I don’t understand it, dh’oine. You know what he does, with Neave, and still you remain loyal only to him”   
“Elias, love”, Signe said and stroked back his hair, “What’s going on with you? What kind of trouble are you in?” she asked as she kissed his cheek, letting her arms circle around his neck as she pushed herself up on the tip of her toes.   
Ele’yas sank his head down into the curl of her neck, breathing in deeply as Signe stroked his hair. “I’ve done bad things”, his voice rasped against her skin and Signe nodded, but remained quiet. “I’ve killed, for… For _her_ , but… She still, still won’t have me”   
“Who’s ‘she’?” Signe pulled him down with her, as they kneeled on the ground, she still held him close, letting him lean against her as he breathed against her skin and she spread her legs for him to rest between.   
“Teha”, he said quietly. “I love her”, Signe felt tears wet her skin as he stroked his hair, and a sob wretched through his body as he leaned against her.   
“Is she one of…”, Signe asked, but Ele’yas shook his head.   
“No”, he whispered, “A succubus”   
Signe hadn’t seen a succubus, but they existed in this world. They were enchantingly beautiful beings, but with horrid legs, the legs of goats. The closest thing she could think of to describe them by, were female demons of desire. They ensnared men, made them full of lust and love, only to sate their own want and longing on the energy they fed off of the men they took. Tir had told her that succubae were half elven and many elves desired them, saw the love between an elf and a succubus to be something of beauty, a blessing of sorts. But it was also a curse, since a succubus had a completely different way of viewing love and those relationships seldom ended in anything but misery.   
“What has she made you do, Elias?” Signe whispered and then, she heard steps approaching. Ele’yas sobbed against her chest and Signe held him tighter, shielding him with her arms as he almost drowned into her embrace.   
She looked up, and was met by Iorveth and the vatt’ghern. Iorveth wore a solemn expression on his face as he stopped a few feet away, the witcher looked stony and emotionless, as usual. 

“He told her”, Geralt said and Iorveth looked over his shoulder, nodding. “What do you want to do?”   
“It’s not about what I want”, Iorveth said, shaking his head, “It’s about what must be done”   
Signe looked up at her love with widened eyes, slowly shaking her head as she clasped the grown man to her chest, “No, Iorveth, _no_ ”, she protested and Iorveth sighed.   
“Yes”, Iorveth bit out, staring down at Signe and Ele’yas with a stern eye, his lips perked into a snarl, but remaining closed and set, his jawline tense.   
“ _NO_ ”, Signe growled and her voice seemed to startle Iorveth who looked back at the vatt’ghern. Geralt shrugged, shaking his head.   
“He’s killed dh’oine, minne”, Iorveth said, “Because they slept with a succubus. She claims he’s gone mad”   
“And you trust the word of a monster, before one of your closest men?” Signe retorted with a sharp tone. Oh, she remembered how Ele’yas had been to her in the beginning. He wasn’t a kind man, in any way, but he’d become kind and perhaps all this was somehow a plan from his side to use her as a shield against Iorveth and Geralt, but she simply couldn’t allow for the opposite not to be true, and for Ele’yas to be murdered for it. He had been ensnared by a monster, a monster who _used_ desire to twist the minds of men. “And Gwynbleidd, you know well how these monsters work, why do you trust this one over Elias? Do you not know how such monsters uses men for their own desires, using their minds to get what they want?”   
“She hasn’t used him, woman”, Geralt answered, “He’s in love with her, but succubae are not monogamous creatures”   
“And what if she’s the one prompting him to do that? For her own reasons? Surely she wouldn’t disclose those to you. Why have you such trust in her alone, vatt’ghern? What has she promised you?” Signe looked at the witcher with accusing eyes and he frowned, looking at her with his yellow, empty eyes. 

Iorveth turned and watched him, “You bedded the succubus, didn’t you, Gwynbleidd?” Iorveth said with a disgusted snarl on his lips. “If so, the evidence does not matter, it’s null. Ele’yas has done nothing different from what you yourself have done in the past and will do in the present. Should I punish Ele’yas, I would have to carry out the same punishment on you, which I cannot”   
“So it may be”, Geralt said and twisted his lips, “It doesn’t change that fact that he’s mad”   
“And still in love with the succubus”, Iorveth said quietly, looking back at Signe and Ele’yas. Ele’yas was still buried against her skin and hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything as Signe cradled him.   
“Elias”, she said, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, “You carried me out from that camp and I owe you a favour for your kindness, for taking care of me when I didn’t know myself. I will try to help you, but you cannot see Teha again”   
A deep sob came from his shaking form as Signe said the last words and she felt his fingers dig into the fabric of her rope, clutching tightly.   
“I can’t”, he whispered, shaking his head.   
“You can, and you will. Do you understand what happens otherwise? If you go back to her?” Signe whispered against his raven black hair, “Do you understand what Iorveth has to do, if you disobey this?”   
“Eigean evelienn deireadh”, Ele’yas said quietly and Iorveth kneeled down before Signe and Ele’yas, touching Ele’yas shoulder with a leather-clad hand.   
“Esseath neén deireádh”, Iorveth said in a deep voice, frowning as he squeezed Ele’yas shoulder, “Mire, aé gar’ean visse geas. Tearth neén” 

Signe had no idea what they had said to each other. She knew some of the easier words, _neén_ , meant ‘no’, or ‘not’, but other than that, they spoke too fast for her to even begin to catch on.   
Iorveth turned around and nodded towards the vatt’ghern who then left, leaving the three of them alone. Iorveth looked at Signe with a frown, as she still stroked Ele’yas hair.   
“Minne, go back upstairs, I need to speak to Ele’yas alone”, Iorveth said and Signe nodded, letting go of Ele’yas, who scooted over, letting her rise to her feet. Iorveth grabbed her hand before she walked away, looking up at her with meaning eyes. “No loitering, go back to our room”   
“Yes”, Signe said silently, before she cast Ele’yas a last look and left. 

 

She silently made her way back, meeting no one as she walked up several flights of stairs, until she reached the private quarters. She opened the door to her room, but stopped in an instant, when she was met by stern yellow eyes looking at her. The vatt’ghern stood leaned against one of the bed posts, casually as always as he watched her silently.   
Signe closed the door behind her, before she spoke. “What do you want?”   
“Have you been to see the commander?” the vatt’ghern asked in his deep rasping voice, “I’m sure he’s got it real cosy down there, in the dungeon”   
“Why do you make it sound as if it’s my fault?” Signe asked, annoyance coming over her, why was he here? Didn’t he have more important things to do, saving his sorceress, for example.   
“That’s not my intention”, he said and sat down on the bed, “I know you warned Iorveth about me, and perhaps you had reason to, but I’m a witcher, I have to remain neutral”   
“Neutral?” Signe sputtered, “You’re anything but!”   
The vatt’ghern nodded, “Yeah”, he sighed. “I don’t blame you. Iorveth’s a suspicious bastard as it is, anyway”, he looked up at her, “But Roche is not to blame. Maybe Iorveth knows it, maybe he doesn’t. But he’s going to kill him, you know that, right?”   
“Why are you coming to me with this?” Signe asked, crossing her arms over her chest, “I can’t do anything to influence the fate of Vernon Roche, nor anything else, least of all my own, it seems”   
“That’s not true, and you know that as well as I”, he raked his hand through his long, white hair. He looked tired, tired and old, somehow. He had the same old eyes as Iorveth, but his skin didn’t look very old, though, it didn’t look as young as that of an elf.   
“I’m Iorveth’s whore”, Signe said through clenched teeth, “I cannot leave this estate alone, little less go for a piss on my own”   
The vatt’ghern smirked, which made Signe’s expression turn even more sour, “I know you’re not his _whore_. Contrary to what other’s around town might whisper, I suspect your something closer to a wife, than a whore. And wives, have influence”   
“Then it’s obvious you’ve clearly misunderstood the situation”, Signe said curtly, “Now please, get the fuck out of my bedroom, Gwynbleidd”  
The witcher nodded with a smile, as he rose from her bed and walked towards her and the door, “As you wish”, he said quietly, leaning in close to her, “But keep in mind what I’ve told you. Iorveth and his men may have a lot of blood on their hands, but you do not and I suspect it’s not something you long for either”   
“Get out”, Signe hissed without looking at the witcher. When she heard and felt the door close behind her, she could finally breathe out. Her head felt like it was spinning as she stroked her hands over her face.   
What the hell had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eigean evelienn deireadh – Everyone must end   
> *Esseath neén deireádh. Mire, aé gar’ean visse geas. Tearth neén – You are not done with. Look, I notice your curse. Fear not


	35. Bedtime Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short smutty chapter. Don't mind me, I'm just indulging.

“Would it help if you controlled me?”   
“What?” she looked at him with wide eyes, not understanding, “You mean, if I’m on top instead of you above me?”   
“No”, he took a deep breath, his expression unchanged, but his eye looked away from her for a moment, “If you’re the one fucking me”   
“Uh…”, Signe didn’t really know what to answer for a moment, as she just stared at Iorveth, “What, like a man?”   
“Yes”, he bit out, frowning.  
“But I don’t have-“  
“You’ve got fingers, haven’t you?” he hissed slightly and Signe looked at him.  
“You mean to say, you wish me to do to you, what… You do, to me? In…”  
“In my arse, yes”, he almost looked undignified. Signe had never even heard of men using _that_ entrance for such things, was it even possible? “Don’t worry”, he said, stroking her arm, “I won’t force you if you’re not comfortable with it, I understand”   
“It’s not that”, Signe said and leaned up on her elbow beside him, stroking his hairless chest, “I’ve just never done anything like _that_ before. I never even knew you could get pleasure from… That”   
Iorveth smirked, looking up at her, “Well, you can”   
“Is it nice?” she smiled as she looked down on him.  
“Yes”, he said, stroking her hip with light fingers, “I think it’s more pleasurable for men, but some women like it”   
“I don’t think I’ll…”, her voice disappeared and Iorveth looked at her with sadness.   
“Don’t worry, minne”, he said, stroking her hair back, “I’ll never force you to take me inside you, unless you want me to. For me, feeling you inside me, would be wonderful”   
“Are you sure?” Signe bit her lower lip, looking down into his emerald eye.   
“Certain”, he said and leaned up to kiss her as he stroked his hand down over her neck, to her shoulder and lower. “Everything with you is perfect”   
“You’re just saying that”, Signe smiled against his lips, letting her tongue run over his lower lip.   
“Never”, he breathed, pulling her down over him. She spread her legs, straddling him. By now, she’d gotten slightly more used to his erection against her. She still couldn’t imagine having him inside her, but against her, was nice enough as she rubbed her folds against his hard cock. Iorveth moaned against her lips and held his hands lightly over her round hips, as she moved slowly against him. It felt so nice, so good to be this close to him again. Skin against skin, lips against lips.   
“You’ll have to guide me in what I’m supposed to do”, she said and Iorveth nodded, kissing her deeply.   
“Of course”, he said, catching her upper lip between his, sucking lightly on it before Signe began to kiss her way down his body. She supposed she would have an easier reach if she sat between his legs, spreading him open, like you would a woman.   
She lightly touched and pressed on the parts of his body that she knew he liked and his breathing became deeper and shorter, hitching as her lips reached his abdomen. She kissed his cock lightly as she placed her self between his legs.   
Laid out like this, before her, he looked like something out of an erotic dream. His hair tousled and gleaming from the light of the fire beside them, his muscles twitching now and again and his small dark nipples stiff, skin prickled and his cock heavy and hard, slightly bent as it rested against his abdomen. As she carefully pulled the skin back, she could see that the tip was leaking slightly. He did this, John hadn’t, she caught herself thinking as she smeared the pre-cum out over the head with her thumb. Iorveth moaned quietly and Signe looked up at him and smirked. She was sure she looked a mess, but it really didn’t matter right there and then. She had several knots in her hair that she needed to tend to, she needed to remember to braid her hair before bed, else she’d never be able to untangle the mess it so easily became. 

“Now what?” she said and looked up at Iorveth, who looked down on her where she sat.   
“Oil”, he said, “Uh, don’t you use some for your hair?”   
Signe nodded and rose from the bed, walking over to a small chest standing in the washing area of the room, bringing a small vial back with her. She opened it and poured a reasonable amount of the golden liquid into her hand and then smeared it over both her hands and fingers. She trailed her fingers slowly and carefully between his cheeks, until she found his small, puckered hole. She began to carefully circle it and was met with praise from Iorveth, who began panting, as she stroked his cock with her other hand.   
“Just like that, minne”, he breathed, “Keep doing that”   
Signe must have looked more concentrated than when doing math, as she followed his body’s every reaction to her ministrations. After a little while, she pushed one finger inside him and he groaned. She looked up at him and saw his chest rising and falling rapidly, coated by a beautiful red blush and his eye was half-lidded as he watched her.   
“Fuck”, he groaned, “You look so ploughing beautiful sitting there”, he said, panting, “I’ve never seen a dh’oine like you, Signe”   
Signe smiled and pushed the finger deeper inside him, until she was as deep as she could be, her knuckles against his round cheeks.   
“Try two fingers”, he said quietly and Signe obeyed, pulling her finger out, before adding a second one. This time, she had to use more force as she did so, but Iorveth reacted beautifully to her ministrations, and as she slowly moved her fingers in and out of his arse, she felt herself grow incredibly wet. This was something she’d never done before, never even had thought to do, but as she did it, she realized she really enjoyed it. Having Iorveth writhing around her, at her whim – just like she was always at his. “Curl your fingers upward”  
“What?” she looked up at him and Iorveth nodded for her to do it, “Won’t that-?”  
“No, no”, he breathed, “Do it”, and she did, making Iorveth breathe out a cracked moan, and she kept moving her fingers, in and out, curling them. The sensation of having him around her fingers were strangely pleasant, and she couldn’t help but to grind herself against the sheets, needing some friction, as she stroked his cock at the same time. The oil making her hand slide up and down it in an almost depraved manner. “Sit on my thigh, minne”, he said breathily, “Grind yourself against me, I want to feel you”   
Signe did as he said and straddled his leg, grinding her clit against his skin, and soon, she began to moan with him, as she fucked him and herself on him. This felt perfect. She released his cock to steady herself, and Iorveth caught her hip with one of his hands, beginning to stroke himself with the other, as Signe came closer and closer. She pushed her fingers inside him harder than she had planned to, curling her fingers up, which made Iorveth almost whine and the sound alone made her come undone. His hand on her hip, fingertips boring into her flesh and the sound of him panting and moaning, along with her moans, had her orgasm overtake her. Iorveth twitched under her as he hissed and when she leaned her head down, she saw his white seed spread out over his abdomen. She reached down, and smeared it out over his cock. He chuckled as he twitched from oversensitivity, and Signe looked up at him with a smile on her lips.   
She drew her fingers out from him and then climbed up to him, grinding herself against his now half-flaccid cock, leaning down and kissing him deeply.   
“How was that?” she asked.   
Iorveth gave her an exhausted, but soft smile, “Perfect”, he said, “But I’m not done with you. Go sit on the edge of the bed”   
“What?” she smiled and Iorveth urged her with a nudge to do as he said and so she slid off of him, positioning herself as he asked, her feet on the floor.   
Iorveth got out of the bed and sat down on his knees before her, spreading her legs as he leaned in, kissing her heavy breasts sloppily. Signe cradled his head as he kissed and sucked on her stiffening nipples, nipping them lightly with his teeth as he kissed his way down to her folds.   
“You all right?” he asked and Signe looked at him with wide eyes, nodding. Then he leaned down, placing her thighs over his broad shoulders, and kissed her folds, sticky with her fluids, as well as his own cum. Signe, oversensitive from her last orgasm, twitched, but moaned as she fell back on her elbows, looking down on him sucking and kissing her swollen clit. He circled it with his tongue, switching between just flicking it lightly and then almost ravishing it with kisses and sucks. He soon found a steady rhythm to his ministrations and Signe felt her body react to it. The warmth of another, more deep and aching orgasm building up inside her. She reached down and grasped his hair, holding on to him, almost pressing him against her cunt as he licked her. When she came, she fell back fully, her head spinning with pleasure.   
“Jesus fucking Christ”, she moaned and she could feel Iorveth chuckle against her, stopping when she began to push him away. She looked down on him as she panted, her legs still hanging limply over his shoulders and Iorveth wiped off his mouth, kissing the insides of her thighs. “Why haven’t you done that before?”   
Iorveth shrugged as he put her legs down, “I don’t know”, he said, cocking an eyebrow, “Shall I do it again?”   
“Not now, I’ll die if you do”, Signe said and sniggered, drawing herself back up on the bed.   
“Can’t have you dying”, Iorveth said and climbed back onto the bed, “Such a waste on a beautiful creature”, he stroked her stomach, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. The pale flesh overwhelmed his hand, and his fingers looked so spiderlike when he cupped her like that. Signe leaned in and kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. 

“Well, we need to get some sleep, minne”, Iorveth said, leaning back into the bed, “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day”   
Indeed, Signe thought. Tomorrow was the day they were travelling to Loc Muinne. The Scoia’tael was travelling ahead of Saskia and her men, only a few archers travelled with her, the rest was with Iorveth and Ciaran, two days ahead. The trip itself would take almost a week, even by horse, considering not all of the archers had horses, and so only the scouts would be travelling faster ahead of most of them. Saskia travelled by boat, but Iorveth remained suspicious towards boats and so preferred, if he could, to stay on land. Signe didn’t really have a preference, but she hoped dearly she would get a horse. She loved nature, but hiking wasn’t high on her list of favourite things to do, especially not since it was beginning to become colder and colder, closing in on the approaching winter.


	36. Mud, Mud Everywhere

It was typical, so bloody typical, Signe swore as she trudged through the deep mud along the edge of the forest, close to a small village after two day’s travel towards Loc Muinne. “Goddamn you!” she swore as she had to jerk her foot up from the steadily sinking mud, clutching on to her ankles and sucking her down with every goddamned step she took.   
“Oh, calm down, dh’oine”, Ciaran smirked behind her, languorously sucking on his pipe as he seemed to find every firm patch of mud to step on, without even having to look down where he put his feet.   
“I’m going to kill him for this”, Signe seethed through her teeth as she wiped away hair from her sweaty face, and before she had time to notice, her foot slipped and she fell forward, fortunately, she was able to catch her fall with her hands, and at least not drench her face into the soggy mud. “ _Fuck_!” she hissed as Ciaran chuckled behind her. Before she had time to even try to get up again, a steady hand pulled her back up, Ciaran’s eyes where full of an unusual mischief as he smirked to her, his pipe between his teeth.   
“Stealth just isn’t your cup of tea, is it?” he said as Signe shook off the worst of the mud on her hands and trousers.   
“If you don’t shut up, elf, you’re next on my list”, Signe seethed as she trudged on. 

_You’re the only dh’oine among us, none of us can just walk into to the village_ , he said, _It will only end in bloodshed_.   
Then how the fuck have they coped without her before? Oh, right. She realized too late she shouldn’t have asked that, seeing as the answer to that particular question wasn’t one she really wanted nor needed to hear. She knew the answer already.   
At the edge of the forest, Ciaran bid her Va faill, as he and a few other archers hid in between the trees, still keeping their eyes on her, as she entered the village. None of them could follow her there, but they had keen eyes and were the most proficient archers in the known world, so if she were to run into to trouble, they’d know in a heartbeat.   
She wandered along the small road, closing in on the small gathering of houses. Her boots made wet noises with every step she took, the wet mud having leaked into her knee-high boots, or she had a hole somewhere she hadn’t yet noticed. This day just kept getting better and better, didn’t it? She sighed and continued walking. Upon entering the village, she was met by a few suspicious eyes, following her every move. It seemed like a normal village, she thought. Well, she didn’t exactly know, since she hadn’t done a great deal of travelling thus far in this world. Going from Flotsam to Vergen had been by boat, and the only other small village she had seen, had been Lobinden.   
She decided a well-mannered approach was always a winning concept, so she tried to identify the least lice-ridden farmer amongst those following her with their eyes, and walked up to the middle-aged woman, plucking sunflower seeds out of dried flowers on a doorstep.   
“Good day”, Signe said and gave the woman a light nod, “I’m just passing through, may I ask if there’s an Inn nearby, perhaps?”   
The woman looked up at her with critical eyes, looking her over more than once before she took a deep breath and answered, “Aye”, she nodded, “That’s a strange accent you got there, where you from, girl?”   
“Far away”, Signe tried to smile easily and the woman narrowed her eyes, “I won’t be staying long, just need to buy some food”   
“Ain’t got much ‘ere in the village, but the innkeeper might have some stale bread and jerky for ya”, she said and then looked away. Signe mumbled a ‘Thank you’, before she kept walking. All right, so there was an Inn here, now, considering the old bat hadn’t told her where and she hadn’t had her head on straight enough to ask, she just needed to figure out where it was. Turned out, it wasn’t all that hard to find, considering the whole village contained only around ten houses. The Inn was the largest house, characterized by a cheered on fist fight going on outside it.   
Signe took a wide detour around the fighting men, still feeling slightly scared and uncertain around rowdy men, but it seemed the mud was a great camouflage, as she was able to slip in fairly unnoticed inside the Inn. 

“Oh, dear!” she heard a female voice sound over the low chatter inside, “What in Melitele’s name happened to you, girl?” a greying old woman came up to her, looking her over with concerned eyes.   
“Bah, don’t come in ‘ere dragging all the mud around, I’ve just finished cleaning up that sodding spew”, another, equally greying woman came up and eyed Signe from top to bottom.   
“Enis, you’re being rude!” the kind woman said with a stern eye towards the other, who looked back at her with annoyed eyes. “Pardon me sister, she’s not all that right in the knob, if ya get what I mean”  
Signe smiled nervously, “I don’t mean to cause any trouble”, she said, “I’m only looking to buy some food for the road, and perhaps a few special herbs, if you have any, that is”   
“Ain’t got herbs, ain’t got food”, the rude one, Enis, said and crossed her arms over her chest.   
“Enis!” the other woman hissed again, pushing her way in front of the woman and touching Signe’s arm, urging her to come inside the Inn. “We’ve plenty of food, no herbs though, if yer not looking for any common ones. But there’s a herbalist just outside the village. He lives in his own little hut out there, all by ‘imself. He’s sure to ‘ave what yer looking for”   
“Thank you”, Signe smiled modestly, as the woman guided her over to the counter.   
“Now, what food are you in need of?” the kind woman said, “’Tis true we don’t have much, but we have the necessities”   
“Lard, seeds and spices, mainly”, Signe answered.   
“Aye”, the woman answered and Signe told her what spices she was after, and it turned out, the old woman had most of them. The reason she was sodding here in the first place, wasn’t bad planning before they left Vergen. It was due to a rain storm drowning more than half their stock, rendering their bread into a soggy mess and the spices useless. The lard, was simply so they could cook the meat the archers caught in the woods during their travel.   
The woman also stocked honey they made themselves, and Signe bought some of that too, it would be nice to have in their tea. When she had paid for everything, her sack was filled to the brim and the rude woman looked at her strangely.   
“What’s a lone girl going to do with all that food?” she said through narrow eyes.   
“Who's to say she’s alone?” the other woman answered, “You aren’t alone are ya, lass? It’s not safe for lone women to walk these paths, ye see”   
“I’m not”, Signe nodded, “I have people waiting for me, don’t worry”, she tried her reassuring smile again, but the rude one only huffed.   
“What are ye then? Travelling bandits? Oh I knew you were trouble the moment I laid me eyes on ye”, the rude one said and the nice one smacked her on the arm.   
“Does the lass look like a bandit to ye? And since when do bandits send women to get their food? And pay for it, to boot?”   
“I’m not a bandit”, Signe said. “Anyway, thank you for your hospitality”, she looked mainly at the nice woman, who nodded with a smile as she bid them both good day and walked out. 

So, to find the herbalist’s hut, then. The fist fight outside had died down, now, instead of a heap of rowing men, they had turned into a heap of bleeding men, clutching their heads, arms and crotches. It was a disdainful sight to be had, and Signe ignored the few whistles she got as she past them by. The mud on her boots and trousers had started to dry as she made her way down the road.   
When she ended up at the edge of the village, she looked around, searching for a small hut in the distance. When she didn’t find it, she frowned and was about to turn around, walking back into the village when a man a few years her senior caught up with her, touching her arm. Signe whipped around and pulled away from the man.   
“Oh, wow!” he said, “Calm down, didn’ae mean to scare ye”, he chuckled.   
“You can’t just walk up to people and touch them”, Signe hissed and the man looked slightly sheepish as he smirked towards her. He was not very tall, but well built and with wild auburn brown hair, tousled over his forehead and sharp cheekbones. His brown eyes were almost amber in colour and his smile was cheeky, but kind.   
“Pardon me, me’lady”, he smiled and did a overly dramatic bow towards her. Signe narrowed her eyes as she watched him, “I was only gonnae ask if ye needed help with that sack of yours. Looks heavy to me”   
“No thank you”, Signe said curtly and began walking back towards the village.   
“Ye lost?” the man asked, following her.   
“Looking for the herbalist’s hut”, Signe said and stopped, looking at the man. He was dressed like a farmer, but then again, all men in small villages were probably dressed like farmers. Smelled like one too, she noticed.   
“Oh, aye”, he nodded, “’Tis that ‘a way” he said and pointed to the edge of the village”   
Signe sighed, rolling her eyes, “You don’t care to give me a slightly more eloquent description?”   
“Elo-“, he looked confounded, “Don’t even know what that word means”, he shrugged.   
“A more _detailed_ description”, Signe narrowed her eyes.   
“Ah”, he smirked, “Ye go that ‘a way”, he said and pointed again, “Then ye turn left by that large chunk of tree right o’er there, see? Then ye follow the wee trail up into the woods and past the overgrown well, then you’ll see the hermit’s hut”   
“Uh”, Signe cocked an eyebrow, “Well, thank you”, she said and started walking back in her original direction. Unfortunately, it seemed the man was intent on bugging her.   
“Ye know”, he said and Signe sighed loudly, “Ain’t safe for lone women walking around out in those forests”  
“I’m not alone”, Signe said.   
“Look pretty lonely to me”, he smirked, walking up beside her, “I’ve heard there’s squirrels in the forest. You’ve ever met one of them?”   
“Yes”, Signe rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen rodents before”  
“Oh, I donnae mean the small, fluffy kind, do I”, he said, “I mean the elven kind, them Scoia’taels”, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a stop. “You’ve heard about them, ‘aven’t you?”   
“What did I just tell you about not touching me?” Signe said in a stern voice and the man let go of her arm, the same sheepish look on his face again.   
“Pardon me, again”, he said, “’Tis just, yer a bonny lass and ‘tis not safe out there”   
“I can hold my own, thank you very much”, Signe was beginning to become very annoyed at this point and she glared at the man, handsome as he was, “Now stop pestering me!”   
“I’m sorry me’lady, but I cannae just let ye walk out there all alone, can I?”   
“Yes, you can!” Signe snarled, “Your concern is very kind, but it’s misdirected. Now please, have a good day, thank you for the directions!” she said and strode off. Finally, the man stayed, leaving her alone. She was beginning to think she’d never be rid of him, but as she followed his instructions, she eventually entered the wood again and Ciaran was soon by her side, relieving her of the heavy sack. 

“Who was that dh’oine?” he asked in a serious tone.   
“Fuck do I know”, Signe answered with an annoyed huff, “Wouldn’t leave me alone”   
“I noticed”, Ciaran looked amused and Signe huffed, annoyed.   
“It’s not funny”, she said and Ciaran smirked. Then, he whipped around and then pushed the sack back into her hands.   
“No, it’s not”, he said quietly, “Here he comes”   
“Bloody hell!” Signe’s eyes widened and she spun around as Ciaran hid behind a bush close by. 

“Oi!” he shouted, loud enough to scare away every game in the close vicinity of the forest and Signe rolled her eyes.   
“Leave me alone!” she snarled, starting to walk towards the small hut further into the forest.   
“Oi! Stop!” he shouted again and soon, he was able to catch up with her, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her into a halt. “One of our hunter’s found-“   
The man was interrupted by a pommel in the back of his head and as he fell to the ground, Signe looked up and met Iorveth’s eye, furious and his chest heaving. “Didn’t she tell you to back the _fuck_ off?!” he hissed and pointed his sword at the man. Signe looked around and saw Ciaran, along with several archers standing around them with their bows drawn tightly, their eyes peeled on the man lying on the ground.   
“Oh, by Melitele’s tits”, the man groaned, staring with horror at Iorveth, “Yer him”   
Iorveth snarled and smacked the man over his face with the side of his sword, cutting him slightly, “And I don’t take kindly to my people being harassed by dh’oine with wandering hands”, Iorveth snarled and kneeled down beside him, pressing the sword horizontally against his throat.   
“I-I, she-“, he stammered as Iorveth seethed over him.   
“Iorveth”, Signe said, dropping the sack but not taking a step closer, “He was pestering me, but he did nothing”   
“As if it matter!” Iorveth snarled without taking his eyes off of the man, “If a woman asks not to be touched, you _fucking don’t touch her_ ”, he pressed the sword deeper.   
“I swear, I didn’t do nothin’”, the man pleaded, “I didn’ae know she was with ye”   
“So you thought you could simply take what you deemed as yours”, Iorveth looked at the man with a disgusted snarl, “You dh’oine never learn. It matters not how many of you I kill, you simply keep sprouting up from the ground, like weeds, littering the world with your ignorance and your self-centred shite. It never ends, does it? But when you try to defile something of mine, that does not belong to you, that’s where I draw the line”, Iorveth said and with a strength Signe hadn’t witnessed before, pressed the blade through the man’s throat, cutting his neck off, slowly and painfully, with the help of his foot as he held his other hand over the man’s throat, muffling out his screams.   
Signe was horrified and she felt bile rise in her throat. She felt her head spinning as she backed away, not sure where to look. When the man was decapitated, Iorveth stood up and spat on the ground and then looked up at Signe. His eye was dark, as he met her eyes with his, his expression equally dark and he didn’t say a word as he dried his sword off on the dead man’s clothes. 

“Why-why did y-“, Signe found herself stammering, “You-you… Killed”   
“Yes”, Iorveth’s voice sounded almost more nasally than it usually did in her ringing ears, “It was, unfortunately his own doing, by following you, minne”   
“But-“, she said as she felt herself heaving.   
“He would have told the village, spread the word about us”, Iorveth stood still with the dead man at his feet, then, he gestured for some of the archers to take care of the corpse, “And what he was going to try and do to you, I don’t even want to imagine. But he followed you, in to the woods. You were alone”, an angry snarl played over his lips, “He was unwilling to let you leave”   
“But you didn’t have to-“, Signe pleaded, in vain.   
“I did!” Iorveth snarled and stepped over the corpse, walking closer to Signe, “I fucking told you, I’ll never let anything happen to you again. If I so have to kill every last man that looks at you, I will. If that makes sure, you never have to suffer through what you did again, it’ll be worth it”   
“He’s dead” Signe stared at Iorveth, “You killed him”   
“I’ve killed thousands like him and I will kill another thousand if I have to”, Iorveth said, his voice sounding almost regrettable for a moment, but then he looked up and met her eyes again, “You best understand that, dh’oine. This is who you’ve allied yourself with, this is what I do”   
Signe didn’t know what to think right then and there. She’d known, she had. She had been warned, she couldn’t say she hadn’t. But until now, she hadn’t known, hadn’t _seen_ what that really meant. Those people she knew he had killed, it had been as if they were simply numbers on a sheet, something unreal, something that was impossible to imagine. Now, she could she the blood soaking his hands, the literal blood from the dead man behind him, along with the blood of every other human he had killed, only because they took a wrong step into the wrong part of a forest.   
“You’re a monster”, Signe shook as she spoke, staring at Iorveth.   
“I am who I need to be”


	37. Iorveth's Dream

Sleeping in ditches wasn’t something Iorveth enjoyed, still, he couldn’t say he minded. It gave him a sort of pleasant feeling of normalcy, strange as it may be. One quickly got used to the harshest kind of environments and after close to a century of sleeping rough in the woods, he didn’t think too much about it. Sure, his back hurt less after waking up in a bed, but the softness of a feather stuffed mattress made him feel stiff and depraved, as if it went against not only his principles, but also his nature.  
What kept him annoyed however, was Signe’s blunt refusal of being close to him after the incident in the forest. Iorveth sat leaned against a tree, carving arrows as he cast glances over their camp to where she lay with her head leaned on Tir’s lap, sleeping soundly as Tir twirled her fingers in Signe’s hair. She had pushed him away and now refused to speak to him.  
He was back to where he had been a couple of weeks ago, when she didn’t remember who he was. Now, she did remember him clearly. Too clearly it seemed. What did she think, anyway? She knew about him, knew who he was and before, it hadn’t bloody bothered her much. But then the reality of it all hit her in the face like a sledgehammer and she couldn’t shy away from the truth anymore.  
Iorveth didn’t think it would hurt him this much. Somehow, he had refused to believe it ever would. Not again, never again and never this badly, ever. Who did she even think all of these people were? Iorveth snarled to himself as he shook his head, looking away from her sleeping form. Did she think Tir different from him? Or Ele’yas? Iorveth might be older, but in regards to his age and station, none of the other Scoia’tael was neither worse nor less than him. They were all killers, radicals and would do anything in their power to make sure the dh’oine never could rest in peace, without feeling just an inkling of fear of the forests surrounding them. They were the invaders, the slavers, the monsters. 

_You’re a monster_ , he could see her lips move, but the voice that came out, wasn’t Signe’s. Instead, the voice belonged to his mother. 

_"What had led me to this path to begin with? It wasn’t as if I had much to begin with, but I had_ something _, something to hold on to, something that was mine and nothing could change that. But as with everything else, it sips through the cracks in the ideal life we create for ourselves, painfully aware that everything ends one way or another. There’s simply no other way. It’s easier to take on whatever shite life throws your way, if you’re just aware that the shite’s eventually going to hit you right in the gob. To pretend it’s never going to happen, is to live an illusion that will lead to suffering and misery. To face what’s put before you with honesty and to open your arms to it, is to live. Cowards hide, cowards die"_  
Isengrim, sitting hidden in a grove, staring straight into Iorveth's eyes. He had two eyes then and Isengrim's words pierced him, deeper than the battle-hardened elf's eyes ever could.

Iorveth hissed as he cut his thumb on the small, but sharp knife, quickly bringing the thumb up to his mouth and sucking the blood dripping from it. Everything he touched turned to ashes, it was what she’d said, wasn’t it? When he left. The last time he left, that time he had seen her last. Iorveth had forgotten how long ago it was. He could hardly remember her face, what she _actually_ looked like. The same went for his children. They would be old by now, over one hundred years themselves and living somewhere he didn’t know. _If_ they still lived. He had thought about it from time to time, what he would do if one of them showed up and wanted to join their cause. How would he react? Would he even know they were his children, his spawn? He wasn’t entirely sure.  
They always said one must love one’s children, but Iorveth had always felt strangely detached to all his kin, no matter if he bore their flesh and blood, or if they bore his. That very same detachment had driven her mad, Aëte.  
He could remember her hair. Golden blonde, long and with a shine to it few had and he’d yet to see the likes of it still. But did he ever truly love her? In another life perhaps, as with everything else, it was difficult to sift through over hundred years of memories. It was daunting and easily disconcerting to even begin to try. But her golden blonde hair was a fact, just like her light blue eyes. A fact he would always remember because of just that – he knew it, even if he didn’t remember the actual look of her. Had she been difficult? Perhaps. Another fact he couldn’t shrug off, was the fact that _he_ had been difficult – just as he still was. There was no way around it and the fact that his own mother had deemed him a monster, only made him more like one. What else was he to do? Once you burn all the bridges you cross, there’s no turning back. A normal life wasn’t for him, just like his father before him. 

The protests from his mother, from Aëte, from everyone he once knew, poured off him like water over a fat goose. He didn’t want to hear it. Though, with age came regret and as he sucked on his thumb, glancing up at Signe, sleeping easily, leaned against Tir and using her thigh as a pillow, Iorveth realized that he could regret everything he’d ever done. But he couldn’t regret _her_. 

_”They say all elves are beautiful, that they are born as such. In Iorveth’s case, someone set out to defile him, marking his beauty with a scar so ugly it would always remind him of who he truly was. He hides it beneath a crimson headscarf, as crimson as they blood of all the humans he’s killed and all those he’s going to kill. A living legend, they say, the elusive leader of one Scoia’tael commando whose members give no thought to laying down their arms and continue their incessant war against humans. Stories of his deeds, my friends, of his deep hatred for what the elves call ‘dh’oine’, humans, paints him more akin to that of a vengeful ghost than an individual made out of flesh, blood and bone. But let ye not be fooled, friends. For he may be dangerous and sly as a fox, but he’s no ghost. Oh, no! Like any other living creature, this too old elf can be cut down and butchered and so he will be”_

He had dozed off. Dozing off in the woods was dangerous and he knew it all too well. That is what led to death, carelessness and stupidity, based from sleepless hours making the mind grow dim and slow. He couldn’t afford it.  
“Iorveth?”  
He narrowed his eyes, wiping off some spittle having leaking from the corner of his mouth as he slept and looked up. Two large and dark blue eyes looked directly at him. For a moment, he thought of Aëte again, but the heart-shaped face and the deepness of the blue hues were wrong and he breathed a sigh of relief.  
She pressed herself down between his legs, lying down and leaning to the side against his chest and then closing her eyes.  
“I thought you were upset?” he asked quietly, closing his arms around her.  
“I am”, she said in a short tone, but didn’t move from him. Iorveth leaned his head back against the bark of the tree behind him, looking up into the dark, cloudless sky above them. It was littered with stars, as it always was. Some things never changed and Signe spoke about a bond between people, like electricity. He didn’t understand what electricity was, in the way she described it. Lightning, he understood, but for it to travel, controlled and tamed - by humans no less. He had snorted, disgust probably evident on his face. He never made any excuses to hide it, there was really never a reason for it. Not until now. 

_“Iorveth, leader of one Scoia’tael commando and a well-known hater of humans. You are responsible for massacres of innocents and civilians, the burning of several villages and countless crimes of war and terrorism. You are hereby sentenced to death by hanging, along with those belonging to your commando that we have in our holding cells. You will witness each and every one of them die, before you may face the wrath of your maker”_

Had it been worth it?  
Was it worth it?  
He couldn’t tell, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. He could feel the gazes on him from those in his commando, though no one said one word about it to him, no one dared criticize him. He did what he had to do, he was who he had to be. His personal feelings, those belonging to him and him alone, he couldn’t control and there was little he could do about them. He hadn’t chosen to fall in love with a dh’oine, with Signe. Everything else in his life, he could admit to have chosen. He chose to leave his wife, he chose to kill his mother, he chose to never properly acknowledge his children.  
_A simple son of a bitch_ , Roche had called him. The bastard was right and Iorveth wouldn’t deny it. He could take it, take whatever this dreadful world threw at him. But he couldn’t take what it threw at Signe. He’d laid up his life for Saskia and should it end tomorrow, he would die knowing he had done something right. That what he had fought all his life for, had been for a good cause.  
However, he couldn’t die. Not now, not as long as the fragile dh’oine slumbering in his arms still breathed. This obsession, for he recognized it for what it was, went beyond the little sanity he still held in his mind. It went beyond everything he had yet been able to imagine. He should be disgusted with himself, feel himself dirty. But he was no longer the young, assured man he had once been, determined to rid the world of the filth the humans had littered around themselves, destroying everything in their wake. His hatred for the group at large, was still ever so present. One simply didn’t change with the blink of an eye, but he couldn’t find it in him to loathe her, nor could he push her away.  
The feelings she stirred within him was beyond him and still, like the finest smoking fisstech to a life long addict, he couldn’t quit her. She was decadence, abundance, licentious in her very being and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The luxurious exuberance of opulence in her very being, was gluttonous and depraved. But he wanted every last bit of her. He wanted to devour her humanity, taste it – and at the same time, he wouldn’t have her any other way. The humanity was what formed her, moulded her into the thing of beauty the likes of which he’d never seen before in all his years. A daerienn if he’d ever seen one, a beann’shie. 

This was his undoing, and he welcomed it with open arms as he lit his pipe filled with fisstech-mixed tobacco and inhaled deeply, listening to Signe’s soft snores against his chest. The wind rattled the leaves in the trees, moving the branches, but with his eyes, he could only see them sway slowly. The fire licking the burning wood moved slowly as the game was rotated over its heat. A calm spread over his chest. Abundance and depravity, such a life-long dream of his own corruption, finally falling straight into his lap like the most innocent of kittens, purring as he sucked the world dry of its poison. 

_Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc’h am fhean aiesin_. Va faill, modron aep wedd’he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ‘Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc’h am fhean aiesin’. Va faill, modron aep wedd’he – ‘My glare will pierce through darkness, my brightness will scatter the shadow’. Goodbye, mother of children


	38. Displacement

**March, 1268, Somewhere close to Brenna**  
“We’re the first one’s to starve, the first one’s to die”, Isengrim’s deep voice growled out, his sharply shaped mouth fierce in a snarl as he fisted his hand, holding it up high as his large amber coloured eyes roamed the whole brigade at his feet. “And when the sky darkens and the prospect is war, who’s given a bow, sword and a horse and then pushed to the fore? Expected to die for the land of our birth? Though we’ve never owned one lousy handful of earth?”  
The gathered elves roared, pushing their fists high, the entire brigade a mixed up bunch of colours, face-paints and different shades of deeply brown and raven hair. A majority of them were male, tall and lithe, starved and desperate for a victory. A victory that laid so close to them at this point. They had been brought into the Nilfgaardian army with the promise of their own land, their Dol Blathanna. The only soldiers gathered, clad in a somewhat secure armour, where the officers. Iorveth stood behind Isengrim with his hands resting behind his back He had fought through countless battles in his life, but never had he been this close to his goal, the goal of a land, devoid from humans and with an Aen Seidhe regent.  
“Now’s our chance!” Isengrim’s voice roared and his sharp feral teeth shone in the light from the moon up high in the sky. “We’ll push these northern dh’oine into the dirt, force their kings to their knees and reap our reword from the Emperor himself. This is what we have been waiting for, for hundreds of years and this is what our children will be speaking of for centuries to come”, he paused and looked up at the moon, before a smile struck his fine features and when he looked down on those gathered, he screamed high into the night, “ **Aen Seidhe, tuvean y gloir**!”  
“Tuvean y gloir! Tuvean y gloir!” the people screamed, raising their fists, almost chanting the line, as one does before forcing one’s fears back from the darkening abyss of primal feelings that comes just before a battle.  
Iorveth gazed down on the three silver arrows sewed on his chest, before he looked to his left, meeting the eyes of Riordain who stood frowning in a stance just like Iorveth’s. Legs a shoulder’s length apart and with his hands behind his back. Wearing the same officer’s armour as the others, the black metal and golden rims enchasing his slim build. His hair was pulled back and tied in a knot by his neck and his face was unusually pale, and his jaw clenched tight. It was a surreal feeling over it all, seeing Isengrim rile up the large brigade – the entire Scoia’tael gathered under one banner, several commando’s joined together and their highest ranking officers moved over to the dh’oine army’s leadership. Iorveth didn’t miss his old armour, but he didn’t feel comfortable in the Nilfgaardian armour either. It clung to him, felt heavy. He felt himself a whole other person when he donned it, even though he knew with him he was still himself.  
Had he known what would happened when the battle was done, as Nilfgaard retreated, Iorveth had been long since gone and not stood behind Isengrim then, nor before. Had he known, what he would have to sacrifice when all was over and done with, he would have never pledged his commando to the brigade. But none of them knew, none of them realized, that they had just given their hands to a beast set on consuming their whole arm. Neither of them could know, even though they should have known. To believe that dh’oine would keep their promises, keep their alliances, was like believing an addict claiming to be clean. 

 

“ **Aâ’anval**!” Iorveth sat on his horse, sword pointing straight out before him as dragoons from his commando started galloping past him with their own swords drawn. Further back, the archers stood ready to rain down their arrows on the last of the northerners poor fucking infantry. Behind them, stood the Temerian and Redenian armies, ready to push the Aen Seidhe and the Nilfgaardians back. But Field Marshal Coehoorn had given his orders, and so the Vrihedd Brigade moved forward, sounding their attack.  
“Tuvean y gloir”, Iorveth spoke under his breath, as he forced his own horse into a gallop, riding straight into the middle of the opening chaos before him. 

 

It was a slaughter. They would have succeeded, _should_ have succeeded, but the northerners were too strong, too many. They had to sound the retreat from the burning village, they had no other choice. The other brigades had started withdrawing, their losses too great and soon, Iorveth saw Isengrim sign for them to draw back. Riordain rode over to him and a sharp exchange of words broke up, which ended with Iorveth calling in those left of his commando.  
They had lost eight out of ten men and Iorveth swore as he slid off his horse, exhausted and bloodied, hurt and in need of a healer. But little could he do right there and then, instead, they licked their wounds in their camp, as the Nilfaardians negotiated the peace treaties.  
Little did he know, that the Emperor himself, sold them all under their feet to the non-existing mercy of the northern kings. Isengrim along with all the officers, were to be executed and the rest of the Aen Seidhe sold into slavery to the northerners, killed if they refused and fought back. 

How many times had he stood in front of a hangman’s noose? How many times, by now, had he heard his verdict being read out loud from a dh’oine?  
Too many times. It seemed as if fate was certain he’d be faced with his own death over and over. If not from an actual execution, instead from injury threatening his life. But then, as if from divine intervention, just before the snare was fastened around Iorveth’s neck, arrows rained down over the small village and the guards and soldiers standing around. The officers and the one general carrying out the king’s demands took cover and Iorveth and Isengrim, the two left still standing on their two feet and not yet hanging limply from the snares, were forced down by quick hands, sneaking them out and far away from the village.  
The Scoia’tael was again active and newly formed by a few deserters and their undying loyalty towards their commanders. The dh’oine’s betrayal stung as if their souls had been poured with acid, burning away at them and it laid the ground for what was to come. The traps, the massacres, everything they did, were to make life more difficult for those having oppressed them, having fooled them. The dh’oine had left them no other choice. They had tried, the Scoia’tael had tried to become a part of the sovereign elven land of Dol Blathanna, helping the dh’oine. Instead, they were to be executed, and their Queen had allowed it. The Scoia’tael had been ruthlessly screwed over, both by dh’oine and their own. Dol Blathanna was never for them, deemed as terrorists and criminals, murderers and haters of humans. They had been a means to an end, but as if failed, they were now reduced back to mere criminals belonging in their graves. 

After some time, Isengrim left. Iorveth’s relationship to his former commander had grewn too strained, too difficult and Iorveth’s hatred had grown too strong. They parted on good terms still, but with different views of what the future was to bring. 

It had been a long road and still, there were much for Iorveth to travel. The change he had gone through, only in the few months past, was strange for him in more than one way. He had rebuilt the entire Scoia’tael, the majority of the time all by himself. He wouldn’t ever give up, no matter what the world threw at him. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t admit that he’d been wrong in some ways, in the past. His hatred for humans, still lay as thick as it had since he stood before that noose after Brenna. But he couldn’t deny, that he believed they could live in peace, somehow.  
Signe, even if not from this world, was a testimony to that point in itself and as she poured him a cup of tea, handing it to him before she poured one for herself and then added some honey to the cup, sweetening the brew. She cast him a gaze that meant they still weren’t on fair grounds about what had happened to the farmer, but she had softened again. It was good enough for now, Iorveth decided and sipped on the scorching hot brew in his hands. The dh’oine sat down beside him, doing the same – a peace offering of sorts – he would guess, if anything. She’d slept in his lap the entire night and had just woken. Iorveth still felt himself slightly dim from the fisstech, but it had kept his mind in place for the moment. It was an awful drug, addicts could be found everywhere, even within his commando and it could easily devour a person if you were inclined towards addiction. Iorveth had used it every now and again, especially during battles. It slowed time, but at the same time made one’s strength grow, precision became better and pain reduced. It was a drug of euphoria, one easy to disappear into. When smoked, it gave a slightly different high from when injected or snorted. One became more calm and the buzz was less intense. 

“Have you seen Elias?” Signe asked without looking at Iorveth. Iorveth looked down his cup of tea, drawing in the herby smell, before clearing his throat.  
“No”, he said simply, drinking from the tea.  
Signe hummed and then leaned against Iorveth shoulder. Her locks of raven hair spilling out over his shoulder and Iorveth looked down on her.  
“We’ll be close to Loc Muinne tomorrow”, he said, looking away again. “We’ll meet up with the vatt’ghern. You should make yourself sparse”  
“I’ll do whatever you want me to”, she said, her voice dulled out, as if she was exhausted or simply unfeeling in general. Iorveth ignored it and nodded as he drank the last of his tea.  
“We should start moving”, he said and gestured for Ciaran. Signe withdrew form his shoulder, her face motionless as she drained her own cup, licking up the last of the sweet honey. Ciaran walked up to Iorveth and listened to his orders. Soon, the entire camp was packed up and moving again. Signe walked further back with Tir as Iorveth led his horse, sending their scouts ahead to make sure the road was safe. They hadn’t brought all of their archers, only one third, the rest had stayed in Vergen, making sure the town stayed safe and that nothing unexpected happened whilst they were gone. The politics of the city was still in rambles and Saskia leaving so soon after their victory and not waiting for it to stabilize, proved a perfect time for a coup, if anyone was inclined.

*

“Elias!”  
Ele’yas turned around and saw Signe walking towards him, her face looked emotionless, which was odd for her. Usually, her emotions would play out over her face, but for the last few days on their way to Loc Muinne, her face had been stiff, concealing of what she thought or felt. Ele’yas had kept away from her, noticing she slept with Iorveth, but spend most of the days with Tir. Since that night in the basement, where Ele’yas cracked, he’d felt slightly off, wanting to keep himself to himself. He hadn’t even been sure Iorveth would bring him with to Loc Muinne. However, of course he would, since it would help Ele’yas to keep away from Teha.  
Signe came up and easily slipper her small hand around Ele’yas arm, clenching tightly as she walked beside him.  
“You doing all right, dh’oine?” Ele’yas said and Signe looked up at him, her eyes saying nothing about what she thought.  
“I suppose”, she answered, looking away from him. “Elias, how…”  
“Hm?” Ele’yas looked at her, frowning.  
“Why did you do it?”  
“Do what?” Ele’yas twisted his lips.  
“Kiss me”, she almost whispered, looking in front of her and away from him, almost as if with determination.  
“I…”, he hesitated, looking down on her hand, “I don’t know”  
“Liar”, she hissed, looking at him. Ele’yas met her eyes for a second, but then looked away.  
“What does it matter?” he asked and she shrugged. “I needed to see, to test. To know if it was real, or unreal”  
“Well?” she asked, pulling his arm and making him stop.  
“I-“, he sighed, “I don’t know”

Signe looked at him for a moment, then she looked behind and before her, as if thinking of something. Then, she walked backwards, easily sneaking in behind a thick gathering of bushes, as if she was born an Aen Seidhe, and not a clumpsy dh’oine. Ele’yas looked around him, slightly shocked and at a loss of what he was supposed to do. The others trudged on, walked past him as if nothing, and then, as if by chance, he ducked in behind the bushes, not caring nor thinking of the consequences.  
There, lush, soft lips met his and he easily circled his large hands around her slim long neck, her curls falling over his hands as he felt her skin against his own. The kiss depened and Ele’yas pressed her down on the ground, his body covering hers. He was a first afraid she would panic, considering what she’d been through, but it seemed as if she didn’t react. He leaned on his elbows as he moved his lips against hers, his tongue sliding against hers, swirling as he tasted her, desire driving his lust to drink everything she gave him.  
Before he had time to react, hands were pulling at the laces of his trousers and without really thinking, his own hands were working her laces, pulling her trousers down. He rose, ripping off her boots, harder and faster than he needed, but right then, he didn’t care if he ripped something. The fire he saw in her eyes, completely drowned him. It was like casting oil on fire, he blazed as he looked into her eyes, filled with want and desire. Without asking, as soon as he’d gotten her trousers off, he pushed her legs apart and aligned himself, pressing inside her. She muffled a moan with a hand over her mouth, but he pushed it away, latching his lips over hers as he began to move in a hurried pace, fucking into her as if he was naught but a simple animal ready to breed. Her hands clutched his hair and her legs lay limp at her sides as he thrust harder and harder, moaning against her lips as he quickly came closer and closer to his end. He didn’t care about her pleasure and she didn’t seem to care about his, it was just a thing, an outlet of sorts. He knew so well it was wrong, he knew he could die because of this, but right there and then, he just didn’t bloody care.  
He pushed into her, deep and hard as he felt his muscles tighten and the seed of his loins pour into her, spurting against her fertile womb and it made him push another few times. 

It was over within minutes, but he stayed inside her, as if to make sure she would fall with child from his ministrations. He hadn’t released himself inside a female for years, never with Teha. He’d been to afraid, even though he shouldn’t have been. With Signe, he really _should_ be afraid, and still, he hadn’t pulled out. She hadn’t made him pull out.  
They lay like that for a moment, staring at each other, before Ele’yas pulled himself out of her and rose to his knees, pulling his trousers up. Neither of them said anything, Signe simply crouched as if to push out the rest of his release, before she stood and drew her own trousers up.  
When they stepped out from the bushes, they easily joined the rest of the Aen Seidhe marching towards Loc Muinne, and neither said another word to each other for the rest of the last day’s march.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tuvean y gloir! – Death and glory!  
> *Aâ’anval - Attack


	39. Commanding Fury

Hot, lavish kisses, deeply devouring her from her very soul. The light, careful touch of his fingers, as they traced her naked form under the felt, hidden away from the chill from the night air surrounding them both. There was little privacy in a camp, but they were one night away from Loc Muinne. Tomorrow, early, he was to meet up with the vatt’ghern and now, they only had a few hours between them, before they needed to part for an unknown amount of time.   
Still, her thoughts weren’t focused. How could they be? She couldn’t bare the thought of being separated from him again, and still, she wanted nothing else. She felt detached, thrown off her course and lost within her own thoughts. Iorveth, noticed, of course. He was anything but stupid. Ignorant of certain things, surely, though not the least bit unintelligent. 

Iorveth left the small tent they shared, stolen from a village they passed, and Signe lay there for an unknown amount of time, alone and just staring up into the roof. Around her, she could hear the light footsteps of the other elves in the camp, now making their way toward the breakfast. She didn’t want to get up, she felt tired and her bones were weary. During the months she had been in this world, she hadn’t really allowed herself to feel weary in that way. She’d been through enough, but that emotional weariness she felt right then and there, it was closer to depression if anything and she knew she probably shouldn’t have repressed it before, just as she knew it was bound to press itself to the surface soon enough. 

“Dh’oine!” she heard a voice sound, was it Ciaran? It wasn’t Iorveth, at least, but she couldn’t exactly identify it just then and there. It was a male, that’s all she knew. “Rise and shine”, if shuffled the tent, “Orders from the commander, no loitering”   
“Get fucked”, she hissed as she whipped around, burying her head in a pile of clothes used as a pillow during the night.   
“Tsk, tsk”, she could hear from the other side of the fabric and then the flaps of the tent opened and Ciaran’s dark eyes met hers, “I’m too high up in the food chain here for you to speak to me like that, dh’oine”, he said as he sucked on his pipe. “Not to mention, it’s not very lady-like, is it?”   
“I couldn’t agree more”, Signe mumbled into the cloth, “You’re not very lady-like at all”   
Ciaran chuckled as he nudged her bare feet slightly, “Now go on, get up. Iorveth’s going to have a fit if we’re not packed up after breakfast, and I, for one, wish to avoid that”   
“I…”, Signe sighed, “Do you know where Elias is? Could you send him here, please?”   
Ciaran nodded slowly, “Sure”, he said, blowing smoke out from between his lips, “Gotten close to that volatile bastard? Who would have thought”   
Signe didn’t answer, and soon, Ciaran left her alone and she wrapped her felt around her, digging her feet into the grass covering the ground she’d slept on. She didn’t know why she had asked Ciaran for Ele’yas, neither had she known why she had done what she had done with him yesterday. She couldn’t even begin to imagine letting Iorveth inside her and still, with Ele’yas it had just happened. She hadn’t even thought about it, just acted from out of instinct.   
Ele’yas had become dear to her, in more ways than one, but she hadn’t thought about him as a lover, as someone she might feel something for, except a will to not have him die, or be hurt for something he himself couldn’t help. He was an arse, crude and his constant sneering drove her to wanting to punch him every now and again, though, he was a friend, wasn’t he? He had stayed with her, when she felt confused, when she hadn’t known herself. He had carried her from that horrible camp, saved her from those wraiths and kept her safe during more things she could count on, and he hadn’t asked for anything in return. But the reason as to why he had done all that, deluded her. He had acted such a nasty prick to her to begin with, taking liberties he should be ashamed of, humiliating her – and then, things had just seemed to turn. Now, she couldn’t imagine not having him there, in her peripheral view, a security that always watched and seemed to notice how she felt and what she needed. He spoke little, keeping most everything to himself, but was also fiercely loyal and not only to Iorveth, Signe had noticed, but to her. 

Signe pulled on her trousers and tucked her shift down inside, before she crawled out of the tent. She looked around as she tied the laces holding her trousers up. She had lost even more weight, she noticed, as she no longer had any difficulty to get the trousers up around her hips.   
“Dh’oine”, she would recognize Ele’yas voice anywhere and she turned carefully to face him. She looked around, noticing they were alone – for now.   
“Elias”, she said and walked closer to him, “What happened yesterday…”, she began, but Ele’yas held up a hand.   
“No”, he said, “We don’t fucking talk about, yeah?”   
“What? Why-“, she was interrupted by Ele’yas leaning down and hissing into her ear.   
“It’s _very_ unwise, I’m not saying it was a mistake, but it cannot happen again”   
“I know”, Signe whispered, “It can’t”   
“Go to Iorveth”, Ele’yas leaned back from her again, crossing his arms over his chest. His lips were pressed together and his jaw tight, a wrinkle between his eyebrows told of him holding things back, but Signe didn’t prod, instead she nodded, not saying anything else. 

 

The Scoia’tael had by now gotten used to her presence among them, but it didn’t stop them from whispering amongst each other. As of yet, no one had loudly protested Iorveth’s relationship with her and she’d almost fallen into some kind of routine of shutting out the whispers following her. But this morning she felt prickly, easily aggravated and annoyed, and the whispers easily turned into clear words, not even properly hidden around her.   
Iorveth was standing with two of his officer’s further off, speaking, as Signe moved through their camp. Eyes followed her and a paranoia crept up on her, burning her back as she walked. 

“Dh’oine whore”  
“Beann’shie”  
“Daerienn varh’he” 

By now, she understood the words. A few months of hearing it, eventually took away her ignorance and in her own damned curiosity, she’d asked for translations of the words. Tir had been hesitant, scared that Iorveth would punish her for telling Signe, but Signe was stubborn and eventually, Tir had told her. She had no reason to be surprised, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t suspected and rather easily guessed at what the slurs actually meant, considering how the elves spoke when using the common tongue.   
But today, wasn’t one of the days where she could simply shrug it all off. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down, count to ten whilst closing her eyes. But then, she heard a male voice laughing, while another male voice spoke, low but still perfectly audible.   
“It’s obvious isn’t it? Why else would he come to me, when she’s asleep? I’m telling you, she’s some kind of daerienn and he uses her for _something_ , but it isn’t what it looks like, yeah?”   
“What, so he’s not ploughing her? You serious?”   
“Nah, Iorveth’s preferences lie elsewhere, so to say. So even if he were, for some reason or another, she’d never be able to satisfy him. Specially not after, you know”  
A snigger, along with a snort from the other one.   
“Serves the dh’oinne varh’he right”, the boaster said, “You know, she shagged the Temerian officer even before she was brought to Iorveth”   
“Fucking hell”, a muffled laugh, “Oh shit-” Signe met the laughing elf’s eyes, and beside sat her least favourite person in the world, Neave.   
Something snapped within her, as if snapping a branch in two and within a second, a storm of emotions ravished her mind, leaving her rational mind somewhere in a darkness, deeply hidden behind the emotional rage. She had been through enough shit to not put up with this, and still they taunted her, still they fucking took their liberties. She’d lain awake countless nights, wishing to go _home_ , back to her own world, her old life, to John. A man who’d never been cruel to her, a man who was soft and kind and funny. She remembered standing with him in the bathroom, she, applying her make-up as he shaved, and he would fool around with different shaves, leaving the most ridiculous moustaches, making her laugh so much she gasped for air. The little things he did, like brewing her a cup of _real_ coffee, saved only for the most special occasions, due to rations. She could taste the love in the coffee as she sat in their bed, drinking it, as John kept to his cup of tea as he read the morning paper beside her, propped up on cushions.   
All of that, was gone now. All she had left to remind her of John, was her golden wedding band, still sitting around her left ring finger, thin with its small pearl gleaming in the sun light. Instead, _this_ was her world now, _this_ was what she had to put up with. People mocking her, humiliating her and taunting her. She’d been through one of the worst, perhaps even _the_ worst thing she could imagine, the most horrid violation on her person, on her body – and these lousy lice-ridden fuckers thought she _deserved_ it? 

Without another thought, Signe strode up to the two crouching elves, sitting in front of a boiling pot of tea, and as the other elves eyes widened and Neave’s face only showed a smug smirk, she kicked the pot straight at Neave, making the boiling brew spray all over him, along with the burningly hot kettle smack his chest. The boiling water hit the other elf as well, but Signe ignored him as she threw herself at Neave, scratching at him with her nails as he screamed from pain from both her onslaught as well as the burning of the tea. Signe had no idea where her strength came from as she pushed the larger elf down against the grass, breaking his nose with one fist as she scratched his skin with her nails. He tried to shield himself with his arms, shouting for help, from his friend, from anyone.   
“Fucking-“, he tried to shout, “Get _off_! Help-”, his voice was muffled under her hands, “Help! Get her off!” 

Her hands were turning bloody as she beat on him. She had no idea how long she was on him, before she was dragged off of him by stern hands holding her back. She hung in the arms of someone, but didn’t care who, instead, her eyes was glued to Neave, staring at him with a feral fire as she shouted and breathed heavily, trying to jerk herself loose from the person holding her back. She wasn’t done with that little bastard yet, she wouldn’t be done with him until she’d beaten his lying face into a pulp.   
“Let go of me!” she snarled, but then a firm hand grabbed her chin and Iorveth looked down on her with a frown. His emerald eye looked concerned, though retained a fury inside it, but Signe didn’t care if it was directed towards her or anyone else. The only thing she cared about then and there, was Neave and she did her best to try and look at him, even though Iorveth held her head bent towards him.   
“Get her out of here”, Iorveth said in a stern voice and Signe was pulled away, still kicking and screaming as she kept her eyes on the bloodied elf still lying on the ground, clutching his face.   
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Neave!” She screamed and the elf looked back at her, his jaw tight and his eyes equally furious, “I’m going to _rip you apart_ , you lying, shit stain! You wretched cunt!”   
Neave didn’t answer her and as she was dragged further and further away, she could see Iorveth motioning to him and then a few others pulled him up. Some words where exchanged, and then Iorveth nodded before he left and walked back over to his officers.

*

Everything went to shit, eventually. Iorveth had learned to just handle it as it were, a sodden truth you needed to accept and embrace to be able to live and continue to live and do what it is that you must. None of those alive, chose their fates in life, but certainly everything is such, that you may choose your battles in lieu of the decisions you make throughout your life. And he knew it to be said and he would be prepared to hear it again and again, that he’d made many wrong decisions in his life.  
This, however, was nothing more than infuriating. He wasn’t in the least mad at Signe, it was quite to opposite. However, his fury was Neave’s, and Neave’s alone. He knew he should be angry at himself, but he couldn’t allow himself that, it would retract him from what he should need to do all too soon. He just didn’t have enough time to deal with these mundane spats and he had no doubt in his mind who had been the whistle blower in this case. He knew, that Signe knew of his dalliances, and whether or not he deserved it, she had accepted it. She’d never told him not to do it, she just didn’t want to know about it. Though, he hadn’t strayed since _that_ night, still, he hadn’t faced Neave about it – but it didn’t allow for Neave to behave as he did towards Signe. There was no excuse. Iorveth was well aware of the disrespectful tone in general towards Signe and there was little much he could do about it without causing a smaller uproar. But what Neave could have said to cause her to act in a manner this rash and violent? He couldn’t wait to know.  
Ciaran had dragged Signe off along with Ele’yas. Tir had followed after the two men quickly, looking horrified after having witnessed most of it. Now, Iorveth only needed to finish his talk with his two most important officers, before he could take care of this whole mess and then quickly brief his second, Ciaran, about the plans for the day. He knew the vatt’ghern could show up any moment and when he did, Iorveth and a majority of the camp needed to leave.  
This whole situation, was something he just didn’t have time for. Not today, and never. Neave was a good enough archer, but how valuable was he?  
 _No_ , Iorveth frowned as he tried to concentrate on his two officers. He couldn’t in good faith spill Aen Seidhe blood for his own carelessness. 


	40. Gouge

Neave disappeared out of her sight and soon enough, the two brutes, _Ciaran_ and sodding _Ele’yas_ let her go. They didn’t realize their mistake before Signe had tackled Tir out of the way and made a startling spurt towards the still very much injured Neave, just having begun to be taken care of.  
Everything in her mind was completely blank. The few moments she had been held back by Ciaran and Ele’yas, had done nothing to calm her down and as soon as she reached Neave again, she flew on him, pulling the now standing man down with her again as she bit into his skin and pulled his hair, beating down on him with a fury she couldn’t understand, couldn’t _explain_ , tumbling around with a grip of death on Neave. 

Oh, but she could. Because just then and there, Neave wasn’t Neave, instead – he was old, bald and his skin filled with scribbled tattoos. Instead of the generally thin and lithe frame of the elves, the man beneath her had a fat gut and his features were brutish, as that of a human male who’d lived a hard life. “I _deserved_ it?” Signe screamed as she beat on him. Nobody grabbed for her, nobody seemed to stop her and so she continued as Neave tried to grab a hold of her, to shield himself from her fists and scratching nails. “How can you even say something like that!? Have you ever been raped, you goddamned bastard? What? No? Fuck you!” her hands turned red with fresh blood again, “Fuck you! _Fuck you_!”  
When she tired, she leaned down over Neave, he was wincing and in obvious pain, but still very much alive and just beaten up from her attack. Signe sobbed and rolled to the side and as she looked up, she found Iorveth looking down on her, along with several other elves standing around. Iorveth crouched down and touched one of her arms gently. His mouth was set in a hard line as his one eye searched her carefully. Then he scooped her up as if she was a baby, carrying her away. Signe circled her arms around his neck, and buried her nose against his skin, letting the smoky and woody scent of him calm her as she sobbed silently against him.  
“It’s all right, minne”, he soothed her as he walked them away from the gathering of people. He walked until they reached a small outcrop of trees, shielding them from anything else, then he sat down and pulled her in close to him, between his long legs and stroked her hair silently. 

He pulled out a cloth and a small skin of water, wetting the cloth and then began to dry off her bloodied hands, checking for cuts. Her knuckles were bashed, but it wasn’t anything serious.  
“I’m sorry”, he said after a while as he stroked her hair, “I’ve not been a good man to you”  
Signe shrugged, not looking back at him, instead just staring into the forest surrounding them.  
“I should have ended it with him a long time ago”, Iorveth murmured, leaning his head back against the tree behind him, “Been honest with you, truly”  
“I slept with Ele’yas”, Signe spluttered out, without thinking and she could feel Iorveth still for a moment. “Yesterday”  
“Yesterday?”  
“Yes”, she didn’t look at him, but she could feel his fingers bore into the flesh of her arms as he processed what she said. “It just happened, I didn’t think. He’s ashamed, I think. Too loyal to you, it just happened”  
“Did you consent?” Iorveth’s voice was dark and serious, as if he needed to control himself to keep it even, for her sake or his own, she didn’t know.  
“Yes” 

They were silent for a few minutes, just sitting there, and after another while, he began stroking her arms softly, his grip on her loosening. She looked back, and what she saw in his eye wasn’t anger, disappointment or disgust. It wasn’t anything she would have expected – not even sorrow. He looked at her with a softness he seldom retained, seldom even showed. She’d only seen it a few times before, and she reached up and stroked his jaw as she looked into his eye.  
“We’re all right?” she asked with some hesitation, and Iorveth nodded, his eyebrows drawing together as he reached up and brushed a hand through her tousled hair. She leaned forward and met him in an almost chaste kiss and the tips of her fingers brushed the tip of his ear, making him groan into her mouth slightly as their tongues slowly moved against each other. He slowly pulled away, pecking her lips slightly as he cradled her neck in his hand.  
“Yes”, he leaned his forehead against hers, “We’re fine”

*

Signe stared down on her hands as they walked. It seemed never ending, even though she knew they were getting closer and closer to Loc Muinne. Her spat with Neave had slowed them down a bit, what with Neave having taken quite the beating. Ciaran, for all his idiocy, gave off a smirking comment about him being beaten up by a tiny little dh’oine and Signe wanted to grin, but didn’t. Ele’yas kept away from her and Iorveth lingered just behind her and Ciaran, obviously keeping an eye on her while walking and smoking his pipe. As he so often did, it seemed he was contemplating as he walked, on what – she couldn’t guess. Battle tactics, perhaps? Or how fucked he was?

There was a knot in Signe’s stomach. She knew something would happen in Loc Muinne, and really, she didn’t want to think on it too munch. All she knew, was that she wouldn’t be able to go there with Iorveth.  
“I recognize this valley”, Iorveth said after some time, his hand gripping Signe’s arm and stopping her in her tracks. Ciaran stopped along with her and glanced to Iorveth with a raised eyebrow. “It’s path leads to the city gates”  
“And the vatt’ghern?” Ciaran said, still looking at Iorveth. The people walking with them had come to a halt as well, silently watching Iorveth and Ciaran speaking.  
“He should be close by”, Iorveth murmured. “Ciaran, you stay here with your people and Signe. I’ll take a few archers ahead and see if I can find the vatt’ghern” 

Signe’s head whipped around, her eyes plastered on Iorveth, “You’re leaving, now?”  
“I’m coming back, dh’oine”, Iorveth said, his one eye narrow as he looked down at her, his hand tightening its hold on her arm.  
Signe’s hand rose to Iorveth’s cheek and she brushed her grimy fingers against his alabaster skin, searching his broken features for a moment, before she resigned and nodded and Iorveth let go of her arm. Then, he turned to a group of archers and waved for them to move out. Before she knew it, she was standing there, beside the ever smoking Ciaran and watching Iorveth disappear into the thick trees of the stony valley.

Unfortunately, Ele’yas went with Iorveth and the one who stayed, was sodding Neave. Signe had to spend the night watching his bruised up and battered face whilst she did her best to help feed the people all around her. They weren’t as many as they had once been, leaving so many of them back in Vergen and a whole lot of them following Iorveth through the valley. It didn’t really matter though, Signe was glad Tir was there with her, keeping her smiling with her silly wit and stupid jokes as they skinned hares and small rodents to throw into whatever it was she now viewed as a perfectly good stew. A few of the elves played their flutes in their little corner of the hidden valley whilst the flames of the fires threw shadows up on the rocky walls surrounding them and it looked as if the trees danced. It was somehow beautiful, though the knot in her stomach did nothing to lessen as she couldn’t attach herself from them fact that Iorveth _and_ Ele’yas was away doing god knows what. What if something happened to them? She’d be alone.  
Or well, she’d have Tir. And maybe Ciaran. Though she wouldn’t put it past him to abandon her the minute Iorveth was gone from this world. Ciaran was loyal to Iorveth, not her. 

As everyone came and took their serving of the stew and some fired stale bread, Signe sat staring up at the clear sky above them. Down on the ground, it was misty and cold, but the sky was as clear as ever, stars looking down on them and she wondered if her god was watching her here as well. Or, if her god was as gone as her own world. It was a thought too difficult to process for her, and soon she whisked it away, letting a few shots of disgusting vodka clear her mind and rinse her pallet before she took her own serving of what was left in the large pot of stew.  
It wouldn’t do to think about things too much, it wouldn’t do to meander on things she couldn’t do anything about. If she survived, she’d live and should Iorveth die, she would be able to live without him. She’d coped the months before he had whisked her away from that little cottage in Lobinden. She wouldn’t have Anezka, but she’d find someone else, if everyone she knew died or disappeared. And if not, well, somehow, things had to end, right? 

She fell asleep huddled up close to Tir, who leaned against her just as much as Signe did against her. The soft flutes lulling her to sleep and Ciaran’s tobacco made her think of Iorveth and safety, the safety of a home – here, and there. Somewhere.

*

“Knights of the Flaming Rose at a peace summit?” Iorveth spat as the vatt’ghern walked up to him, moving out from the dim shadows of the deep valley.  
“I wonder who’s side they’re on”, Geralt said calmly with his usual bored and emotionless voice. It made Iorveth twitch and he had to school his features to not allow for the vatt’ghern to read it easily.  
“On that of whoever paid them”, Iorveth snarled and looked over his shoulder carefully.  
“You shouldn’t let them see you”, Geralt said, cocking his head and Iorveth’s eye narrowed and he could feel his features tighten. Of course, he knew that all ready, but it wasn’t less frustrating even so. Bigots.  
“I know”, he bit out, “To them, a good elf is a dead elf”  
“It’s because you’re Iorveth”, the vatt’ghern said and Iorveth hissed, but never the less, bit down on the anger rising in his throat.  
“I’ll try to enter the city through the caves, I’d advise you to do the same”, he leaned his hand on one of his daggers, looking at the equally tall man in front of him.  
“The knights will know I’m wanted”, the vatt’ghern said, nodding his head slightly in agreement, “You know the passage?”  
“I know the cave nearby”, Iorveth answered and turned, easily sneaking away into the shadows towards the hidden entrance. “There are many ways to enter Loc Muinne, my friend. If Radovid has summoned the Order, I’m certain the others have brought their armies as well. The city must be full of soldiers, all of them sitting as if on a witch’s bone, waiting for a spark, but that may be to our advantage”, Iorveth smirked and looked over his shoulder at the vatt’ghern silently moving behind him, “If the rulers have hauled themselves up in camps, it should be easy to move between them”  
“Even with your archers?” Geralt asked from behind him.  
Iorveth smirked again, chuckling silently to himself, “Especially with them, Gwynbleidd”

After sneaking through the caves, they soon bumped into a gaggle of soldiers, talking about that pest of a daerienn, Philippa. She’d been captured, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Saskia seemed to be out of place and in need of the blasted daerienn’s healing, Iorveth would have gladly let her rot down in the dungeon they’d thrown her in. Even the gallows would be more befitting, in his mind. But the Gwynbleidd was right, they needed her and as such, they needed to find some way down to her. Iorveth had to remind himself, it was for Saskia, for his dream of a free city, for elves and all the Elder races to live free lives away from the oppression of dh’oine. It wasn’t for Philippa he’d do this, he’d execute her the first chance he was given when all this was over.  
Iorveth eventually agreed to search through her quarters, while the Gwynbleidd got himself arrested and thrown into the dungeons, on the odd chance he’d end up in a cell close to the daerienn. Iorveth spat on the close stones on the ground, but silently went about his way, whilst the vatt’ghern went off to harass some guards. 

Sneaking through the city wasn’t exactly difficult, but when he’d located her house, a whole patrol of guards stopped unfortunately close to its entrance, and so he had to return to the sewers leading down to the dungeons, hoping he’d find the vatt’ghern there. On his way back, he was greeted by the most fascinating sight, the Redanian king, walking along with his soldiers, whistling some kind of children’s tune. Iorveth had leaned into the shadows, narrowing his eye as he followed the king with his gaze, before slipping away unnoticed.  
Whilst trudging knee-deep in shit and both dead and living rats the size of small mutts, he came upon a few Nilfgaardian soldiers and had to fight them off. Fortunately, that’s when he saw a sheen of white hair further away and soon realized it was the vatt’ghern and none other than the blasted daerienn.  
“Vatt’ghern, you came”, Iorveth said as he sank his sword into the last of the soldiers with a growl.  
In the dark, he had a difficult time seeing, but as they came closer, he saw that where her eyes had once been, was now only black holes. Something inside him felt a deep satisfaction at the sight, but at the same time he found himself snarling with disdain.  
“Who did this to her?” he asked, looking up at the vatt’ghern who still held Philippa in shackles, thankfully preventing the bloede beann’shie from casting her wretched spells.  
“It was Radovid’s way of thanking her”, Geralt answered and Iorveth could see Philippa swaying slightly as she stood to the side of the vatt’ghern. It was clear she was in pain, the blood had just begun to clot, and a few drops still spilled down over her high cheekbones.  
“I see”, Iorveth snarled and looked at the daerienn, “I saw Radovid with his army, on the way to the talks, whistling a tune-”  
“ _Get me out of here_ ”, Philippa snarled, yanking her wrists in the shackles and Iorveth saw the vatt’ghern raise a brow, giving her a side wide glance. Her snarl made Iorveth’s jaw clench and he stepped up close to her.  
“Shut up, _witch_ ”, he snarled, pressing his leather clad finger into her chest. “You’re alive only because you’re still needed”  
“Philippa’s promised to help us”, the vatt’ghern said calmly. “Only in exchange for her freedom”  
“And you believe her?” Iorveth looked at Geralt, his lips drawn back and his one eye piercing the emotionless exterior of the Gwynbleidd’s features.  
Geralt leaned over on his other foot, before clearing his throat, “Know of a better way to free Saskia of the curse Philippa holds over her?”  
Iorveth wanted to punch something, or, simply kill the gods damned witch in front of him, but the vatt’ghern had a point and so he kept his mouth shut. 

They continued on to the daerienn’s house, Iorveth grabbing her shackles in a harsh grip and dragging her along with him. She kept pleading and pleading, for him to let her go – she could help him. She _knew_ of his plight, of what he wanted. She tried to manipulate him, to gain his attention and sympathy and no matter how he snarled for her to shut up, she kept blabbering, spilling shite and begging. At one point, she even leaned into him, close as if believing the vatt’ghern wouldn’t hear her, and whispered, “I know of your shame, elf”, a forbidden smile graced her filthy heart-shaped lips, “The human woman, the one everyone think’s a sorceress. How odd, the leader of the Scoia’tael, keeping a pet human, a _slave_ ”.  
He pushed her forward harshly, making her stumble on the steps leading up from the sewers, yanking her hair instead of the shackles.  
“Oh, I knew that would hit home”, she sniggered under her breath and Iorveth had to keep his snarl in. It was hard not falling for the bait. It was usually hard for him, but when it came to Signe, as infected and as much of a shitty mess he’d made of it all, hearing this sodden wench speak of the person he _loved_ , filled him with such hatred, along with what she had done to the only other person he could say he loved in some way. He had to remind himself constantly, for every step he took, not to just fucking slit her throat right then and there.  
Philippa had spoken about a dagger, containing the counter spell to release Saskia from her hold, and they needed it. Whatever came of the daerienn after that, Iorveth hoped she’d suffer, immensely.

*

The archers was becoming twitchy as dawn came and Signe woke up, finding the fires burned down and several elves sitting in the trees around her. Tir was still sitting next to her, but she was wide awake and Ciaran paced back and forth a bit further away.  
“What’s happening?” Signe ground her eyes with the heel of her hands, rubbing the sleepiness away and blinking her mind awake. “Where’s Iorveth?”  
“Don’t know”, Tir said and her voice was solemn. Signe leaned away from her and soon stood up, stretching her sore legs and then stumbled across to Ciaran. When she grabbed his arm, steadying herself on him, he jumped slightly and then looked at her with intense eyes.  
“We should move out, shouldn’t we?” Signe said quietly and Ciaran looked away for a second, before drawing deep on his pipe.  
“Mm”, he hummed and gave her a curt nod as he looked at her again. Signe raked her fingers through her hair, before she turned back to Tir and began to gather the few small belongings she had into her pack. 


	41. Like a Wounded Animal

A blast of magic and Iorveth and Geralt both were knocked back, Iorveth’s sword flying from his hand and dropping to the ground with a clink. Iorveth stumbled backwards, his eye widening as he saw, but could do nothing, as the daerienn turned into an owl and flew away. That fucking bitch dh’oine, he _knew_ it, knew it! Knew she would pull some shit like this.  
Iorveth fell onto his knees before he could pull himself up again, the blast of magic pulling all the air out from his lungs. The vatt’ghern looked as taken as him, when Iorveth looked his way. Behind Geralt, a large sodding golem rose from the daerienn’s magic, stretching its arms wide and drawing on the magic itself. Iorveth grabbed his sword on the ground, as the vatt’ghern murmured something sarcastic – and then, it was time to fight.

*

Signe had walked fast, getting ahead of the sneaking elves as they came closer and closer to the city. Ciaran and the rest of them were cautious, but Signe chose to ignore it, the guards hardly noticed her and since she was human, they just considered her another visitor. Something was wrong, she knew it, but couldn’t pin-point it exactly. She could just feel it in her gut, and it worried her.  
Images of Iorveth hurt, or lying somewhere bleeding out kept gracing her mind and they turned her stomach, even though she should know better. Should trust in him being capable enough to look after himself, or, should be ever so aware of the fact that he could very well end up dead, sooner rather than later.

But it was difficult coming to terms with who and what he actually was. She knew so very well, and still, it was difficult to actually admit it to herself. To accept that she, to him, was an anomaly. Had she been any other human, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice, but for some reason, fate had made it so that she had caught his eye and they had ended up where they were. 

As she walked through the gates of the city, she could hear Ciaran’s swearing just behind her, silently. She’d snuck through quickly enough for him to loose sight of her and now he’d realized, and got upset. She wasn’t suppose to wander on her own and Ciaran was supposed to look after her. Iorveth would surely have both their arses when he found out. However, something kept her walking, that stirring feeling in her gut, telling her she was needed – that _he_ , somehow needed her. 

A few of the guards whistled after her, shouting for her attention, but she ignored them and kept walking. She knew that Ciaran or someone else watched her from the shadows, because she could feel eyes on her. Not human eyes, sneaky and deft eyes following her like hawks plastered to the walls, carefully and silently following her every move. But she kept walking, kept going forward through the city, climbing stairs and walking through narrow alleys, until a hand curled around her upper arm and dragged her into a shadowed corner. Signe yelped and tried to elbow the potential rapist, getting ready to grab her knife and shove it between his ribs, until she met Ele’yas dark eyes with her own blue ones.  
His spider-like hand clasped her cheeks as he stared into her eyes, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing, lips drawn into a thin line as he parted his lips slightly.  
“What do you think you’re doing, dh’oine?” he whispered with a hiss, looking up over her and around them, pulling her further into the corner. “You’re not supposed to walk around unsupervised, where’s the rest of the commando?”  
“Around, I guess”, she tried to back away from his gripping hands, but Ele’yas held her steady, his fingertips digging into her skin.  
“It’s not safe here”, he hissed, turning them both quickly and pushing her against the wall, pressing against her with his whole body. Signe gasped and looked up at his pale skin, his dark hair flowing down and framing his face beautifully.  
“Let me go, Elias”, she said quietly.  
“No”, he said, simply. She tried pushing him and he let go of her face to grab her arms and holding them down, preventing her from pushing him away. “You shouldn’t have come here, beanna”  
Signe tightened her jaw, looking up at him with defiant eyes, “What are you going to do, Elias? You wouldn’t hurt me”  
He chuckled miserably and shook his head, looking away from her for a moment, before he took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against hers, “Normally, no”, he pressed his lips against her skin and she could feel him breathing out into her wild and tousled hair, “You were told to stay in the forest, to not venture into the city”  
“Something’s amiss, I know it”, Signe tried to yank herself free, but Ele’yas only pressed harder against her, keeping her caged with his lithe but ever so strong body. “Damn you! Let go of me!” she growled, using all her strength and Ele’yas more or less tackled her and held her back and then grabbed her throat harshly in one hand. Signe gasped for breath as she looked up at him. He had an unnatural snarl on his lips as he almost lifted her off of the ground, up against the wall.  
“Do you think you’ll be able to _save_ him from something?” he snarled through hard clenched jaws, “You’re feeble and obviously completely unaware of what you’re getting yourself into!” he let go of her throat and Signe fell to her knees, clutching her neck and coughing. Ele’yas stayed standing as he looked down on her, “Well then, dh’oine, go ahead, go get yourself killed if that’s what you want. Sacrifice yourself for nothing. If whatever it is you think you’ll be able to do doesn’t kill you, Iorveth will once he finds you”  
“Go sod yourself, Elias”, Signe hissed as she looked up on him, her hands shaking as she raked her fingers through her hair. “You’re nothing but a bastard savage, a murderer and a retched thief!”  
Ele’yas chuckled and held up his hands, backing away from her. Signe got up on her feet with a deep huff, brushing off her leather trousers and then looked at Ele’yas and his grim smirk. There was a darkness to his features, deep and ethereal, somehow – dangerous and unpredictable, as they just looked at each other for a moment, before Signe flung herself at him, her right fist catching his bottom lip and splitting it. Ele’yas stumbled backwards, his hand covering his lip and jaw as he stared at her with wide eyes, before holding his hand out and watching the blood from his lip trickle down over the skin of his hand. His tongue peaked out and he licked his bloodied lip, still staring at her. Signe leaned back against the wall for a moment, staring at the sight before her.  
Then, with a snarl, Ele’yas was on her, his lips pressed against hers, devouring hers. Blood smeared along with spit as he growled against her lips, and she could taste the warm coppery taste of him. She reached up and clutched his hair in her fists and his hands found her arse and hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed her back against the wall. 

Signe bit into Ele’yas’ bottom lip and he pulled his head back with a hiss, and then stilled as her hand settled against his collar bone.  
“What?” he breathed, his bloodied lips against the skin on her chin. His hand snaked its way up from her behind, along her back and gripped the hair in her neck, twisting it around his wrist.  
“We…” Signe almost sobbed – or moaned, she couldn’t really tell which one it was, or if she did a little of both as she raked her hands through his long, dark hair. “We shouldn’t, we can’t! Elias!”  
He groaned, burying his head in the curve of her neck, seemingly breathing her in, keeping himself silent, but still pressing her up against the wall. “It’s too difficult, dh’oine. Too, too… _Hard_ ”  
“I know”, Signe eased herself down from around his hips, letting her hands trail down over his shoulders, to relax against his chest. 

She looked up into Ele’yas eyes, filled with regret, just as she felt. They both knew it. They had to make up their minds – and still, there was only one answer, one way things could go from here. Signe knew, as well as she knew she was alive, that certain things were just doomed, not meant to be and the lust she felt for Ele’yas, was nothing in comparison to the love she felt for Iorveth.  
This lust, it burned and teased her – it was smouldering and drowning in its nature. However, with Iorveth, she just fit. She couldn’t do what he had done, flee when things got difficult, ignore and abandon. Signe knew she was the stable one, the one who brought calm to Iorveth’s chaos, stilling his aching and racing mind – just being herself.  
Sure, she could admit to feeling some kind of love towards Ele’yas and his complicated and rather tragic nature, but it was a platonic kind of love, mixed with lust and a burning need she just couldn’t handle at the moment, just couldn’t put into reality. She knew she had to and she also knew, _knew_ , that what was calling her, was Iorveth. And _he_ needed her. 

And so she kissed Ele’yas one last time, before she slipped away from him. He didn’t say anything, only stood there, looking away from her as she jogged off toward whatever it was calling her from deep inside. Then, she started to run, feeling her pulse in her ears as she sprinted through alleys and ignored several more guards, a few even trying to catch up with her in their heavy armour. 

“Älskling”, she cried, not as loud as she wanted to. She couldn’t remember if she’d told Iorveth of the word’s meaning or not, but the word just spilled out from between her lips, her voice croaking as she whipped around. “ _Älskling_! Jag kan inte hitta dig, snälla kom till mig!” she cried out. Then, from far away, she heard a dying slouching noise, as if a monster was brought to its knees, gasping in death and she backed away, her eyes widening.  
Had she been too late? For what could she possibly have done? Ele’yas had been right. There was nothing, had never, ever been anything she could do. What was she, but for a girl too young, too foreign and too weak for this world. She was a dh’oine, weak and short lived in comparison to Iorveth and Ele’yas and all the others. This was not her world.  
She fell to her knees, for the first time since she’d been captured and given to Loredo, she felt a weight pressing her down. Oh, how she missed John. This was all so utterly hopeless and useless. Perhaps, if she tried hard enough, she’d drown in her own sorrow. Ele’yas would cope, she knew he would. And Iorveth. Iorveth. He’d persevere, if he still lived. 

One moment, she was on the ground. It was as if she blinked, and the next, she found herself scooped up into strong arms and holstered up over a shoulder. When she looked up, all she could see was white hair, whisking in the air. The world around her swam and the smell of leather and strange, herby oils bore into her nostrils, blending with the smell of burning embers and rot all around her. Everything blurred.

*

Saskia stood down on the lowered ground of what looked like an old amphitheatre, arguing with men deeming themselves more worthy than the other of who were to rule their own version of the free world, the majority of the land along the Pontar. He tried not to scoff as he looked on, disgusted by how the daerienn had entranced Saskia with her foul magic, making her utter words so foreign to her own, it made Iorveth cringe.  
He was waiting for the vatt’ghern to show up, and he suspected he would any minute now. Time was running out, and if they didn’t thrust that blasted dagger into Saskia soon enough, it would be too late. All they’d done in Vergen would be for naught.  
But the Gwynbleidd had to find his daerienn, had to bring her here, for without her, there was no telling whether they would thrust the dagger just the slightest bit too much to the left or right, and end up killing his only hope. And that simply wasn’t an option.

“Iorveth”, Iorveth frowned and turned when he heard the monotone voice speak from just a few steps behind him. When he turned around, his hand immediately went to the hilt of his dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Älskling – Darling  
> *Var är du? Jag kan inte hitta dig, snälla kom till mig! – Where are you? I cannot find you, please, come to me!


	42. A City of Ruins

**In the woodlands, northern Temeria, 9 months later**  
Signe screamed until her lungs went out, until there was no air left and her throat couldn’t utter another word. The pain was overwhelming, overbearing. She’d been prepared for this, though, at the same time, nothing in the world could ever prepare anyone for the kind of pain she went through at the moment. Sweat beaded on her brow, trickling down her face as she fisted the sheets underneath her. She’d been told to stand on her hands and knees, that it would make things easier, but to her, it felt like it was stuck – like she was at some kind of standstill. She would die, she _was_ dying, she was sure of it. 

“Calm yer breathing, lass”, the woman crouching behind her wheezed with annoyance, which did nothing to calm Signe as she beat her fist into the frame of the bed several times. “Go on, now. Do as I say, follow my counting, everything’s perfectly in order”  
“Go to hell, you retched cunt!” Signe spat before almost falling down on her stomach on the bed, “If I knew where he was, I’d sodding kill him!” she hissed into the pillow beneath her.  
“Oh, they all say that”, the old bat chuckled and patted her behind as she rose and walked over to a basin filled with boiling water. “’Tis none of my business, how you ended up like this – but where’s yer man?”  
Signe ignored the question. If the old hag was so curious, she might as well ask the stoic brute standing guard outside the door. However, Signe knew there would be questions as soon as this was over, questions she didn’t want to answer, questions she couldn’t and wouldn’t answer – because they honestly weren’t hers to answer. 

“Now, up with ye”, the woman came back with the basin and several boiled cloths, “Grab a hold of the frame, standin’ upright and then when I tell ye to push, do as I say”  
Signe took a deep breath and then nodded as the woman helped her up. Her whole lower body felt numb, but she could feel her muscles working and it hurt more than anything she could have ever imagined.  
“Four, three, two… _Push_ ”, the old woman said and Signe did, screaming of the top of her lungs. “Three, two… Push”

*

**Loc Muinne, 9 months earlier**  
Iorveth crawled away from the seemingly lifeless corpse of the huge bastard. He couldn’t determine how hurt he was, nor what was really hurting or not – he only knew that if he didn’t get help any time soon, he’d be done fore. Not that it would matter much. He always thought he’d lived a too long life in either case and dying because of this, didn’t pain him much. Perhaps it made him a coward, perhaps not – he couldn’t tell and he didn’t care anymore.

All around him, chaos reigned. Everyone fought everyone and normally, he would try to flee as far away as he could – or join the chaos and kill as many dh’oine as he could manage. But he saw what went on around him and he felt sick to his stomach, felt numb from the pain. Rape, murder and gore. They hanged people from broken columns and set fire to houses all around. 

He flopped down on the ground, tasting the gravel underneath him and he could feel the blood spilling from several wounds. Wet, thick blood meeting the dry sand and stone in the ground, colouring it crimson. _Like pulling weeds_ , he thought and chuckled to himself. It was up to the Gwynbleidd now, turning things out. Iorveth had done what he could, had done what he had to.  
The years he could have had with Signe, well, it was a shame, wasn’t it? But it served him right. He’d screwed that up properly and he didn’t deserve her. He’d never really been deserving of her, considering he still couldn’t decide whether or not he actually loved or hated her more. She was human, but still – at those times, it didn’t seem to matter. It seemed as if it was such a minor thing in how things were. At those times. 

Well, she’d do fine. He was certain.  
As the world dimmed around him, he could hear footsteps near him. He ignored them and conjured up a picture in his mind. A picture of a raven haired woman, picking flowers in a clearing in the woods, the skirt of her dress dragging in the weeds as she crouched and snapped off the flowers from their stalks. The roundness of her hips mesmerized him and the locks of her long hair gleamed in the sunlight slipping through the countless trees framing the small glade. A sight for sore eyes, it had been and was now too. He wished he’d been younger, so that she could have carried his children. It was a wish, so shameful he’d hidden it far back in his mind. But now, he indulged in the thought of her round belly – round with his seed, growing inside her. Creating something from his loins with hers. He was glad it wasn’t possible, for it would have been the only thing to pry him from his cause, something of theirs, a living creature that shared her genes, made of her. From her.  
It was with a smile on his thin lips, that he faded away from the world, into oblivion. 

 

But oh, the state of oblivion didn’t last. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been out, but when he woke, he could smell fire all around him and the world actually seemed to spin. Then, that whisk of white hair he’d thought he’d seen before Letho attacked him, came back. But this time, it was the Gwynbleidd looking back at him with his cat-like yellow eyes.  
“What happened?” Iorveth asked with a grunt as he leaned himself up on an elbow. His entire body hurt as if a whole mountain of rocks had hit him, but it seemed, as fate would have it, he was still alive.  
“Radovid attacked the summit, it seemed Letho tore himself loose from the Nilfgaardians who’d caught him. Or well, perhaps they left him loose, if the Lodge of Sorceresses is to be believed”, the vatt’ghern answered in his monotone voice as he crouched down.  
“And Saskia? What of her?” Iorveth hissed as he pulled himself up, holding a wound at his side.  
“She attacked Radovid’s men”, Geralt said, “I followed her and had to fight her to rid her off Philippa’s curse”  
“Just tell me!” Iorveth pressed, snarling as pain wrecked through him.  
“She was impaled on a tree, but survived. I was able to use the enchanted dagger on her, releasing her from Philippa’s magic. She’s alive, Iorveth, she’ll make it”  
Iorveth took a deep breath, frowning as he looked back up at the vatt’ghern, “You’re the most noble human I know, Gwynbleidd”, Iorveth said, shaking his head with disbelief from the word spilling from his lips.  
“I’m no human”, Geralt answered and Iorveth huffed with a pained chuckle.  
“I’m glad you reminded me”, Iorveth said and rolled his shoulders, “My general hatred for the species abated for a moment. It’s abated enough as it is, it seemed”  
Geralt nodded, “About that”, he said, “I caught your sorceress”  
Iorveth snarled and his eyes pierced Geralt in a matter of seconds as he quickly stepped closer to him, “My _what_?”  
“The human you keep. She was sneaking around the city, I caught her as she fainted”  
“Where is she?” Iorveth almost growled, but had to stop himself as pain tore through him again from the wounds he carried.  
“In the ruins of a house just down the hill, safe”, Geralt said and Iorveth nodded, stepping back.  
“Thank you, Gwynbleidd”, Iorveth said and then looked up at Geralt again, before moving away and started walking down the hill.  
“Iorveth, wait”, Geralt called out and Iorveth stopped in his tracks, “What happened here?”  
“While you were fighting Saskia and… Saving the dh’oine, the city, as much as I can remember, was staged to a bloody spectacle”, Iorveth said and began to walk again. The vatt’ghern followed after him, “First, it seemed it was a hunt for the traitors, as usual I suppose. But soon, it turned into a hunt for all mages. And there where a few skirmishes between the different troops gathered. Rape, pillage and murder, not necessarily in that order. I did go out for some time, hard for me to remember every detail, you see”  
The vatt’ghern hummed behind him as he spoke. The things he remembered disgusted him, but the thought of Signe, here, made his blood boil. She was supposed to stay in the camp. And where the bloody hell was Ciaran? 

They soon reached the small caved in house where Signe was, fortunately, she was safe – which was more than many others around what had once been Loc Muinne, but was now just a city reduced to ruins. Iorveth pulled her up from her sitting position before neither had been able to utter a word and her large blue eyes widened as she looked into his sole eye. Her alabaster skin was even more pale than usual, but just then Iorveth didn’t have the time or energy to care. Instead, he pressed her up against the hard stone of the ruin, bashing her head against it as he snarled.  
“What the fuck where you thinking, dh’oine? Do you wish for death?!” he growled and he could physically feel her cringing against the wall as he flung her up.  
“Iorveth, please, listen”, he begged him and he could feel himself crumble. Growing weak. He’d grown weak since he’d met her. How very unbefitting.  
“No”, Iorveth hissed, “You listen to me, dh’oine! Did I not tell you to stay in camp? Unless Ciaran and the rest of our archers are dead, I can only assume you snuck out at an unguarded moment. How much of an imbecile are you, woman?” he bashed her against the wall again and Signe wailed in a croaking voice.  
“Enough, Iorveth”, the vatt’ghern broke in, but Iorveth pushed him away.  
“Mind your own, vatt’ghern”, he snarled and then turned to Signe, “Never, _never_ , disobey me again. I am your commander, as long as you are a part of my commando, no matter whether you share my bed or not. Is that understood?”  
Signe nodded, her eyes wide, then, a frail and soft hand graced the damaged part of his face and he felt his eye closing as he leaned his forehead against hers.  
“Sorry I scared you”, she whispered and Iorveth nodded once, “I needed to get to you, needed to be with you. It was stupid”  
“Yes”, he bit out and then gently let her down and kissed her forehead softly. “This is madness, Loc Muinne has changed, we need to get moving”

Apparently, Letho, the bastard, was still breathing and Geralt needed to get to his daerienn, Triss, who was still caught.  
Fighting their way through the city with his gods damned dh’oine with them, was nothing short of horrifying for Iorveth. But then a small troop of Nilfgaardians attacked them, he had no choice but to press a dagger into her hands and then leap into the fight, hoping she would make it out of it unscathed. The vatt’ghern did what he could to protect her, with his heightened senses, it seemed he could easily hear when she was in trouble or see if someone was even thinking of charging at her.  
Iorveth fought with both his swords, slashing until blood covered his face, ignoring the bone cracking pain he felt tearing through his body at every swing. He needed a healer, but he would survive and this time, he wouldn’t give up. 

When they had finally massacred the entire troop, they went through a gate, and ended up at a square. The sight made Signe gasp and Iorveth had to catch her as her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Her pale skin seemed to turn green as the three of them just stood for a moment, taking in the vast slaughter before them. Body upon body, piled up into a gory mess. And in the middle of it, that bastard, _Letho_.  
“Iorveth”, Geralt said, “Stop”  
“Why?” Iorveth snarled, looking at the vatt’ghern beside him.  
“I must do this alone”, Geralt’s eyes were on Letho and the redheaded woman sitting beside him. It was his daerienn and Iorveth nodded in understanding, “Take care of Triss and Signe in the meantime”  
“Your choice”, Iorveth nodded, pulling Signe close to him.  
“Mine, indeed”, Geralt nodded. “There’s one more thing you need to know, Nilfgaards armies have crossed the Yaruga, war is inevitable”  
“Va faill, Gwynbleidd” Iorveth said, his arm curling around Signe’s waist. “Don’t get killed”  
“Farewell, to both of you”, Geralt said and looked at Iorveth and Signe both. Signe nodded and Iorveth just looked at the vatt’ghern, “If I don’t return within the hour, find Saskia and leave without me”  
“Survive, witcher”, Signe said and Geralt nodded, before walking off towards Letho and Triss. The vatt’ghern and his daerienn exchanged a few words, before she ran towards him and Signe, and they moved on to a safer place, waiting behind the thick, large gate. 

Signe was twitchy in the company of the redhead, as if she didn’t trust her and Iorveth felt inclined to agree with her reactions. However, he did little to show it, instead, asked her to tend to his worst wounds, which she did without hesitation. Meanwhile, Signe sat leaned against one of few still hole walls, watching suspiciously as the daerienn’s magic poured into Iorveth. He felt the wound knit together and finally, he could breath easy again, the pain lessened, though not entirely gone.  
When it was gone, he began pacing back and forth, it’s what calmed him. That, and the sorry sight of Signe with her tousled hair and ripped up clothes as she sat looking dour, but so effortlessly beautiful and otherworldly. Triss stood in another corner, her arms crossed as if nervous for what was going on on the other side of the gate. Neither waiting, said anything for a long time, until the gate swung open and the Gwynbleidd walked through it and Iorveth could hear Triss breath out. Iorveth noticed she had an unsure look about her, as if not knowing what’s to come. Though, at the moment, he simply wanted to get out of this blasted city, find Saskia and then a bed where he and Signe could spend half of an eternity in, just resting.  
When the city gates parted, he pulled Signe close to him, his arm around her shoulder as they walked through it. The dagger he’d given her clinked against one of his swords, but he didn’t mind. She was alive and at his side, and he’d somehow survived this whole skirmish, with only a few more scars to count for.


	43. A Small Cottage to the East

**The woodlands in Temeria, 9 months later**  
What she held in her slack, shaking arms, was nothing short of a small miracle. Its large eyes roaming over her features, seeing all things for the first time. The sun was going down outside, and even in the dim candle light, Signe could make out the sharp features that accompanied the tiny baby in her arms. Slightly pointed ears and high cheekbones, along with a thick thatch of straight, flimsy raven hair on its head. He was the most beautiful and perfected thing she’d ever seen, even if the old hag had screamed of fright when she first saw what came out from between Signe’s parted legs. The midwife had screamed as if Signe’s just given birth to a troll, and considering how few the elves where in these parts, those who didn’t belong to the Scoia’tael, Signe could understand the woman’s fright. But, she was handed her baby eventually, and then received help to get cleaned up. 

The witcher had stood guard outside the room in the Inn where she was staying for her delivery, but she didn’t know if he was there still. She was alone now, just her and her baby boy, and he was beautiful. It was easy to fall asleep there, with the tiny thing resting peacefully in her arms, suckling on her breast happily. It was only when a creak sounded from one of the windows that Signe awoke with a start, blinking her tired eyes in the dim darkness of the room. The simple candle still burning at her bedside did little to lighten the room, but in the far corner of the room, she could easily spot the contours of a large, tall man. Contours she recognized perfectly, and she smiled as he neared her.  
“Iorveth”, she said, having again learned to pronounce his name correctly. The elf neared her silently and carefully, a hesitant look upon his features as he looked down on the sleeping form in her arms. “I wondered when you were going to show up”  
The elf’s lips twisted slightly as he looked up from the sleeping bundle in her arms, and looked into her eyes with his sole emerald one. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch her hair, pulling a lock from her face and back behind her ear.  
“Isn’t it enough I missed the birth?” he said silently and Signe smirked slightly. She had almost fainted when he’d told her that in elven culture, the father’s were present during the birth of their children in support of the mothers. Signe had never heard of the likes, unless you had no other choice, being stuck out on the countryside without a midwife and only your husband to rely on. Back in her world, women living in the cities, gave birth at home or in hospitals, whilst the men waited in an adjoining room, smoking and reading newspapers, until the baby was delivered. 

“It’s a boy”, Signe smiled and Iorveth looked down at the baby, still not daring to touch its fuzzy head. His eyes was different from hers, different from Iorveth’s, though the fuzzy hair looked just like Iorveth’s raven black, straight hair. “We need to name him”  
Iorveth hummed, nodding, “Any suggestions then?”  
“Eryk”, Signe said quietly and Iorveth nodded, letting soft fingers grace the baby’s head. Then, after carefully removing his hand from Eryk, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Signe smiled onto his lips and parted them, letting Iorveth in, as she reached out and caressed his neck. Then she pulled back, slightly and Iorveth stilled, just watching her. “He’s yours, always have been, and always will be”  
Iorveth nodded once, a slightly brash look on his face, before a creak in the floor just outside the room made him whip around.  
The world wasn’t safer in any way or form, as war still raged in the torn northern realms, and this village was not spared from its bloodshed, however, for now, it was a calm enough place.  
“No one deserves to be the fatherless kind”, Iorveth murmured as he straightened up with a frown, silently walking over to the door and making sure it was locked, before he returned to her bed. “I received word from Saskia”, he said as he sat down on the bed again, “Ele’yas arrived safely with his unit and will remain there for as long as he’s needed”  
Signe nodded, her lips thinning for a moment. Then, she looked up at Iorveth and reached out to touch his arm. “I’m thankful for this, you know that, yes?”  
Iorveth nodded once, “Yes”, he said and again looked at the child in her arms, “We’ll leave for the cottage as soon as you can travel, I’ll stay with you for some time. Ciaran has agreed to take command for a while, until you’re on your feet again”  
“I know”, Signe smiled softly. The fact that Iorveth had offered to even leave his commando for a time longer than a couple of weeks, while she tended to their newborn, had surprised her. Though, she always knew he’d never be able to leave for good. There where, however, safe places for the likes of them, for Signe and her child. Iorveth’s child, a half-breed, marked by the blending of its parents heritage. South of the Blue Mountains, near a village close to Dol Blathanna, there was a herbalist’s cottage. It had stood abandoned for some time, but the Scoia’tael knew of it, as well as Signe. They had celebrated Christmas there a few months back. Or, well, _she_ , had celebrated Christmas and the others had eaten her boiled ham with some scepticism. It would only need a few touches to be liveable and it was as safe as any place could be, at the moment. Iorveth, was readily recognizable, however, the cottage was situated far enough away from the near village for them to be undisturbed most of the time. Signe could go back to learn to deal with herbs, selling them to make a living. And Iorveth, he’d visit when he could.  
It was a world of uncertainty and Signe had always known Iorveth never would be able to simply settle down. He was too restless, too damaged by his past to simply accept a life as a simple farmer, even though she believed he’d need it more than he could imagine. She couldn’t force him, in either case and she had to let him do as he pleased. Anything else seemed wasted and would only lead to unnecessary conflict between the two of them. 

Iorveth lay down beside her, mindful of the resting child and Signe scooted down between his arm and his body, resting her head against his chest. He leaned his chin against her head and Signe closed her eyes, relaxing. The pain had stopped as soon as Eryk had been delivered and now, she was only tender beyond measure. The midwife had said she’d done excellent, and she’d only needed to give her three stitches. She would be up and walking in a few days and then, they would travel east.

*

**South of the Blue Mountains, 5 years later**  
She’d never grow tired of the sight of him sleeping. Summer mornings were always the most beautiful and in the crisp light and fresh morning air, smelling of dew and wild flowers, he looked like a dream, even in his scarred state. Over the last years, he’s grown tired, beginning to feel his age. He still looked as young and beautiful as the day she’d met him, and she knew he’d always look that way, whilst she eventually would age more visibly. She’d earned a few more scars and working out in the sun had affected her naturally pale colour, but her body hadn’t begun to ache as of yet. In comparison, Iorveth was an old man, even if it didn’t show. It didn’t matter to either of them.  
He’d been home for over two months by her count, which was unusual. She didn’t really ask, but she could see it on him, the constant fleeing and the battles, he’d grown weary and she welcomed his presence without hesitation. So did Eryk, who rejoiced in having his father present. She could hear the child going about in the small cottage, playing with his few toys, always waking up early with the summer sun rising and the animals beginning to mill about. Signe and Iorveth, however, still lay in their shared bed. Iorveth slept still and Signe, simply watched him, stroking his dark hair away from his forehead and revealing his grim damage. Not that it had ever mattered to her, she found him beautiful beyond words even missing an eye and with the thin, crimson skin and scar tissue reaching out over half his face.

She scooted closer to him, pressing her lips against his naked shoulder, whilst sneaking a hand down under the covers, stroking his half-flaccid cock to life, as he groaned from the touch, waking up slowly.  
“You’re awake already, en’ca minne?” he rasped, his voice still tangled with sleep as he pressed back against her.  
“Did you wish to continue sleeping?” Signe nipped his skin, tracing her lips up to his ear and then kissing the tip, making him groan as she continued to stroke him.  
“Not really”, he chuckled and turned towards her, pushing her back and down into the covers, positioning himself over her. Signe smiled and raked her hands through his long hair falling into her face. His hair had grown long over the last months, he’d stopped cutting it. Why, she didn’t know, nor did she ask. She did like it, never the less as it proved perfect for grabbing and pulling during coital activities such as these.  
She moaned as he pressed his hard length against her sex, the weight of him crushing her in the most perfect way as he hid his face in the curve of her neck, peppering her skin with kisses and grinding against her. When she was wet enough, he eventually just slipped inside her with a groan, biting down into the skin of her shoulder. Signe moaned deeply from the feeling. So familiar and so completely right.  
She’d never regretted her decision to stay with Iorveth, even though at times, she could feel sorry for what she could have had with Ele’yas. Though she knew, her bond with Iorveth was stronger and soon, Ele’yas had found his own place and happiness. They wrote each other every now and again, Signe telling him of Eryk’s adventures in the herbal garden and other such things. Ele’yas knew of his biological son, but chose not to claim him, instead giving up his fatherhood to Iorveth.  
In the beginning, Iorveth had been reluctant, claiming to already have fathered enough children. Signe still didn’t know exactly how many children he did have, but she knew it was quite common for elven fathers not to claim all their children. It was the life of children that was important, not the fatherhood. For an elven male to sire children, was of great importance, but if was more often the mother’s raising the spawn. He had, however, taken to Eryk from the moment he saw him and since then, he’d been the child’s father. Eryk thought Iorveth his biological father and it would stay as such. Iorveth had become infertile, but it did happen that elven males his age fathered children, even though it was unusual, so if Eryk decided to ask when he became older, they would simply tell him he was an unusual but very lucky occurrence. 

Their breathing grew hurried along with their shared kisses and Iorveth ground into her, his pace fast and she could feel him getting close to his end, and so she pressed him down against her, whilst grinding up, getting her own friction. His lithe body moved above her, chasing after that perfect rush, the perfect way to start a morning during the warm, but fresh summer heat. When her orgasm overtook her, Iorveth pushed into her with a fierceness that made her whole body tingle. She could shout herself hoarse if not for the child just outside. A few noises from their bedroom was no matter, but she didn’t want him to think Iorveth was hurting her.  
As he pushed a few last times into her, he buried his face into her neck again, hugging her with his whole body as he shivered through his own orgasm. He kissed her neck whilst calming his breathing, and then rolled off of her, a sly smirk on his face and Signe sniggered.  
“A cup of tea then?” he said, raising a brow at her and she smiled.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading this story. It's been my baby for many months. I didn't realize how close I was to the end, but then, everything just fell in line and fit so perfectly.  
> It's been an emotional ride, but I love Signe and Iorveth, and perhaps they might come back in another setting sometime in the future. 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, liking and commenting! It means more than I could ever express!


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